


The Holy Vow of a Teenage Kiss

by rivlee



Category: HBO War, The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, M/M, The entire family ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: When his Aunt Mae suffers an injury, Andy Haldane takes a leave from work and goes to the small town of Fawn Park, PA to help her recuperate. It's his first time spending any significant amount of time in the small town since he was fifteen. Some things in Fawn Park, like his massive crush on Eddie Jones, remain exactly the same.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Warning:** There is discussion of the offscreen death of Andy's Uncle Robert, who died of cancer. Cancer sucks, losing your loved ones to it sucks, and if this is something that upsets you, you may want to skip the story. While it's not a major focus of the fic, it is a fact spoken of throughout. 
> 
> **Art** made by the lovely charlesanthonybruno can be found [here](http://charlesanthonybruno.tumblr.com/tagged/the-holy-vow-of-a-teenage-kiss) on their tumblr or [here](http://antiquecompass.tumblr.com/tagged/art%3A-the-holy-vow-of-a-teenage-kiss) on mine. They're some absolutely lovely edits and fit the fic perfectly. 
> 
>   **Music** : If you want some background music while reading, [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/rivlee130/playlist/39a2X6I9VqftvgytCLj2DG) is my Spotify playlist for the fic.

Andy Haldane loved early mornings in Boston. If he caught one of the first trains on the Red Line after daybreak he could wander around parts of the city and feel like the only living being to walk the streets. Later on in the day Downtown Crossing would be teeming with tourists. Haymarket would be overcome with the smells of all the fresh food in the makeshift stalls; packed tight with people buying local and trying to maneuver the narrow paths with bags and rolling carts and tripping over extension cords and boxes. There was always a major event going on somewhere in the Common come the weekend. But right now, right here, he felt like one of only a handful of people as he jogged up the stairs of the T station to the street level above his head. His shoes echoed as he turned down the alley that housed his favorite used bookstore in the entirety of the Boston-metro area. 

_Brattle Books_ sat nestled on its little bit of street, a gem of a store in an otherwise seemingly rundown part of the city. An empty lot next to the storefront held all of their cheaper paperback and clearance books on outdoor shelves and tables. It was one of Andy’s favorite Saturday routines, to come here and sort through the books and inevitably buy at least three each visit. His condo was honestly half bookshelves; books had rarely let him down in life. They’d been one of the few constants in his life when he moved from the well-known halls of his private elementary school to the small dorms of his boarding school and then off to Maine for college. He’d moved from Cambridge to Andover to Brunswick, Maine in a space of four years. 

A few people were already milling about the stacks, sorting through old encyclopedias and atlases, dog-eared mysteries and volumes of poetry. Andy loved used books, loved the history they carried, always smiled when he saw someone’s notes in the margins or found an old receipt or bookmark or card from a previous owner. It always made him feel more connected with the wider world, with someone else out there who once held the same book in their hands. It was a comfort, even going back to the years when he was shipped off to boarding school and felt so isolated and alone. He’d spend hours in the library at Phillips Academy, just running his fingers over the spines of old books, pulling one out at random, and spending his free time pretending he was someone and somewhere else. And sometimes he’d find notes between the pages, a reminder that he wasn’t the only kid to ever feel so alone and so far from home. 

He was flipping through an old law text, seeing if it was something his father might enjoy, when he was distracted by someone searching the stacks next to him. Their earbuds were hanging around their neck and Andy recognized the faint musical tune there. 

“Deana Carter?” he asked. 

The person looked up with a sheepish smile, face almost pink enough to match their pastel hair, and nodded. “It’s one of my mom’s favorite songs,” they said. 

Andy nodded. “One of mine too.” He smiled at them and left them to their browsing as he hummed _Strawberry Wine_ to himself and remembered the first time he heard it. 

The summer of 1996 saw him staying with his Aunt Mae, Uncle Robert, and cousin Kelley in Fawn Park, Pennsylvania. It had been an eventful year leading up to that summer. His family had just celebrated the first successful year of Quincy Cambridge Consulting being in business. His own personal reward for being _such a good sport_ was getting to avoid the hellfire of boredom that was summer camp, and instead he got to spend an entire three months with the Murrays. It was Andy’s first summer where he’d truly felt like himself. It was the first summer where he’d felt free. It was the first summer where he’d met the Jones family and the first summer where he’d started to realize there was a difference between admiring older boys and finding them attractive. 

_Strawberry Wine_ played on the radio one muggy August evening, when Eddie and Heather Jones, the two kids closest to Andy in age, though both older than him, goaded him into teaching them the dances he’d already learned for the white-tie parties his family attended. They’d all been barefoot, dancing on a worn down patch of dirt, while Heather sang along to the radio and Eddie let Andy lead him in a Foxtrot. 

It was the start of a series of summers and a whole slew of memories Andy still cherished. 

He was still close to most of the Joneses, as much as he could be in exchanging texts, calls, and Facebook posts. It was harder over the years to stay in touch with Eddie as he joined the Marines and then traveled the world after he got out. Andy swore that man never stayed in one place long enough to even arrange a visit. Heather and her wife and kids were in Pittsburgh. Various others Joneses were scattered across the country, but the Jones homestead still stood strong in Fawn Park, and on the rare occasion Andy headed down there to see his Aunt Mae, he always stopped by to say hello. Annabeth Jones would hunt him down otherwise, her fifty-three years on this earth and a bad hip be damned. 

Andy was getting ready to head inside to purchase his current stack when his phone rang. He smiled down at the number, speak of the devil, or in this case an always-concerned country mama. 

“Annabeth,” he answered with a laugh. “Our weekly call isn’t until tomorrow.” 

“Andy,” Annabeth Jones said, a quiver in her voice that sent a chill down Andy’s spine.

He grasped to his years of taught composure and carefully put down his stack of books. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, forcing his voice to stay steady, forcing himself not to ask _who_ was hurt.

“I’m fine,” Annabeth rushed out. “We’re all okay, everybody’s okay. It’s Mae.”

Andy choked on his own breath. He remembered a similar phone call two years ago, right before Halloween, and his Uncle Robert’s battle with cancer at its final end. 

“She’s alive!” Annabeth yelled. “Alive and well, I swear. She’s just had a fall.”

“Jesus, Ma, you’re going to give him a heart attack,” Sam Jones said through the phone. “Let me talk to him. Andy?” she asked.

“Sammy Beth,” he said.

“Aunt Mae’s fine. Casey is with her right now. She fell at the store. I love her, but she was trying to lift something in that back room while Casey was at the counter and Ryan was out grabbing everyone’s lunch. She wouldn’t let us call an ambulance and Casey’s still too young to drive, so they had to wait for Ryan to get back, but we’re all—we’re all okay.”

“If everyone’s okay why is your mom there?” he asked.

Sam scoffed. “Would you trust Ryan to fill out _your_ medical history paperwork?”

“Right,” Andy agreed. They’d need an expert to decipher that chicken scratch. “Aunt Mae?”

“Definitely a broken foot. Possibly a broken hip. She wouldn’t say a word in the car, apparently. We had to drive out to the city hospital. They have the best bone doctors or whatever.”

“We’re keeping her at our house,” Annabeth said, taking the phone back over Sam’s protests.

Andy winced as he thought about all the stairs in the Jones house. There was a small guest room on the main floor, but its windows faced the west and Aunt Mae always liked to watch the sun rise. 

“I should--”

“Don’t be hasty,” Annabeth said. “We’ve got her. Can you call Kelley, though? We don’t have her number.”

Or an international calling plan, not since Eddie left the Marines. Kelley was in Germany, where her husband was stationed. There was no way she’d be able to come home, not long enough to help with the recovery timetable for hip surgery. 

“Of course,” Andy said. He took a deep breath.

“Stay where you are, Andrew Haldane,” Annabeth said. “At least sleep on it before you do anything rash.”

“I’ve never been rash,” Andy said.

Annabeth’s soft laughter filled his ear. “Try telling that to someone who hasn’t known you since you were a gangly boy.”

“Give Mae my love,” Andy said. 

“Of course,” Annabeth said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Andy gave his goodbyes, locked his phone, and gathered his books. He took one last look at the lot before heading inside the store. He had a feeling it would be a long time until he saw it again.

**********

Josiah Forbes Allison Haldane was one of the senior partners of Fick, Haldane, and Speirs, a relatively new law firm in terms of Boston’s most renowned law firms, being that it was only ninety years old. When Andy was in his junior year at Bowdoin he’d had to decide between Harvard Law and Harvard Business School. It was really having to make a choice between his parents. He never wanted to be a lawyer, so the decision wasn’t that difficult, but he still stopped by at least twice a week for lunch with his father.

Nate Fick and Ron Speirs were both the type of good sons and heirs who became lawyers like their parents. Nate specialized in employment and discrimination disputes while Ron handled the type of international business dealings that would make a lesser person weep. Andy had grown up with them and they were two of the few people in his life who really understood the unique pressure of growing up, living, and trying to thrive in their bit of Boston society. It may have been 2017, but so many New England families had too long memories. 

Andy never regretted his decision, especially not when he walked into the firm on a bright Saturday and found Ron Speirs at his desk.

“Have you even been home yet?” Andy asked as he placed a bagel and cup of coffee by Ron’s elbow.

“International business doesn’t give one iota of a fuck about my sleep schedule,” Ron said. He took the bagel and gave him a nod. “Your dad’s in his office. A little work before his round of golf with the governor?”

“Standard Saturday Schedule,” Andy said. He patted Ron on the back. “Try to get some sleep, Ron.”

Ron nodded. “Right after this teleconference.”

Andy sighed. “You better not still be here tomorrow.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” Ron laughed. “Going to give me that disappointed frown of yours? I’m so scared.”

“Oh, I’ll just call your mom,” Andy said as he walked out. He just dodged a balled up napkin as he headed towards the stairs. 

His father’s office was on the top floor. A beautiful, open space that overlooked the Charles River. Andy had spent many afternoons of his childhood playing on the floor by the large windows, as his father and his various employees worked on some case. He’d grown up with legal jargon as a comforting white noise. 

His dad still stood behind his large wooden desk, awards gleaming on the shelf, even though his hair had gone white and thin and his body a little smaller. His mind was still sharp as ever. 

“Your mother will yell about the bacon,” Josiah said before Andy even passed the threshold of his office.

“If you don’t want this sandwich, I’ll eat it,” Andy offered. 

“Give it here,” Josiah said. 

Saturday morning breakfasts were their tradition. They ate whatever “low brow” fare Andy passed by on the way to the law firm, got grease on their fingers, and slurped whatever drinks were in their cups. It was their own little shared rebellion against the image families like the Haldanes always had to present. Boston society always had been, and always would be, full of gossips. It was harder on people like his mother, women who were judged for marrying “down” with a sister who had been cut-out of the will and exiled from the family for daring to live her own life. His mother couldn’t be seen to be anything less than a pinnacle of virtue, who sent her son to the right schools and had him associate with the right people and helped restore whatever honor had been deemed tarnished when Mae made her escape. 

She could let her son and her husband have these mornings though, with her explicit approval. And even if Margaret Quincy Haldane had never told her side of the family to get fucked, she still openly maintained her strong relationship with her sister. 

What Andy was about to do though, what he knew he would do even after sleeping on it for a night, almost felt like a betrayal to both of his parents and their hard work. Because he was about run away too, even if it was to take care of a family member. Fawn Park had always been a part of his dreams, calling him away from everything here. 

“Mae got hurt,” Andy said.

Josiah put his breakfast sandwich down. “Have you called Kelley?”

“Not yet,” Andy said. “It might be a broken hip.”

Josiah frowned. “That’ll take longer than a short weekend back in the States. Who is with Mae now?”

“Annabeth,” Andy said. He then explained for his father’s benefit. “Mrs. Jones, one of the neighbors.”

“Oh, that family that tried to adopt you?” Josiah asked. “You still speak with them, yes?”

“At least once a week,” Andy said. 

Josiah took a deep breath and gave Andy that look that said how well he knew his son. “You’re a grown man, Andrew. You can make your own decisions. I’d just rather you think about it for a day or two. You shouldn’t go running off to fix something that doesn’t need to be fixed.”

“She’ll need someone to help with the store, at the very least. Not to mention helping her around the house,” Andy said.

“And I’m sure there are plenty of local people who already live there willing to help. Or home nursing agencies for her rehab,” he said.

Andy tried not to roll his eyes. “Dad, they’re out in the middle of nowhere. No one’s going to drive out there for an hour rehab session.”

“They might if they want a job,” Josiah said. He ran a hand over his face. “Speak with your mother first. She might want to head down there herself.”

Andy and his father exchanged a look and then they both laughed. His mother was a caring and loving woman, but comforting bedside manner was not her strength. Aunt Mae’s home would be sparkling clean by the end of the visit though, since Margaret Haldane was the most efficient stress and boredom cleaner and organizer Andy had ever met. 

Josiah pushed his chair out and stood in front of Andy. He gripped his shoulders tight until Andy looked up to meet his gaze. 

“You’re always trying to please everyone,” Josiah said. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer.”

“I just want to do what’s right,” Andy said. 

Josiah nodded. “I know, son. Talk to your mother. At the very least you need to give her your notice if you’re going on sabbatical.”

Andy tried not to grimace. He didn’t know who he was going to disappoint more in that scenario: Margaret Quincy Haldane as his mother or as his employer. Either way, it wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to, but one he needed to have regardless.

**********

The weekend train schedule meant Andy had a bit of wait for the train to Cambridge. He settled on one of the few benches and pulled out his phone. There wasn’t ever going to be a good time to call his cousin and tell her about her mother, but at least it was early enough he wouldn’t be interrupting dinner time.

“Andy?” Kelley greeted him with surprised joy. “Did you dial a wrong number or something?” She laughed, her voice almost drowned out by the kids yelling greetings in the background. 

“It hasn’t been that long since I’ve called,” he said. 

“It’s been two months!” Kelley said. “I’ve almost forgot the sound of your voice. What’s up, Toy Story?”

Andy laughed at the childhood nickname and rested his head against the tile behind him. “Don’t freak out,” he said.

“Shit,” Kelley said, voice soft. “Who?”

“Your mom’s mostly okay,” he rushed out, closing her eyes as he waited for Kelley’s reaction. “She fell. They know there’s a broken foot, might be a broken hip too. The Joneses are with her.”

“Thank god,” Kelly breathed, words caught in her throat and choked up. She took a shaky breath. “I don’t know—I can-t---Tony’s leading some training camp right now and I…” She trailed off. “ _Fuck_ ,” she whispered under her breath.

“I know,” Andy said, trying to soothe her. “Kelley, I know you can’t come home, not yet. I’m working on it.”

“Please,” Kelley pleaded. “I can’t—not her too---I just-- _please_.”

He’d grown up with Kelley, the closest thing to a sibling he’d ever had. She was two years older than him. When they were younger the members of the family who had disowned her mother and father initially tried to accept her, to see if she could be trained to be a poised New England lady. Andy still remembered that Easter, when she was thirteen and while calmly cutting up her pieces of ham, told their maternal grandparents in no uncertain terms that they could take their money and blow it up their asses. She wasn’t ashamed of her mother or father; she certainly wasn’t ashamed of herself, and the Murrays never did want or need their money or approval. 

Their grandparents had stormed out. Andy’s mother had given Kelley an extra-large slice of pie for dessert. 

Kelley wasn’t the pleading type, but she was fiercely protective of her mother. Even more so since her father died. She needed someone she resolutely trusted with Mae, just in case; just so she could sleep at night. 

“I’m working on it,” Andy said. “I promise.”

“You need Aunt Margaret’s approval,” Kelley said. She sighed and Andy knew she was pinching the bridge of her nose. “She’s not going to forbid you from leaving.”

“As my mother? Probably not. As my boss? She’s going to have to re-assign most of my accounts.”

“They do have Wi-Fi in Fawn Park,” Kelley said. “And mom has a satellite dish. It’s not like you’ll be on Mars. You’re never going to be out of contact.”

Andy could hear the screeching gears that meant a train was approaching. “These clients are used to a more hands-on experience.”

“Spoiled rich white people,” Kelley said. 

“Hey, that’s half-you,” Andy said. 

“Only half,” Kelley said. “I’m going to call Annabeth, see if she has an update. Call me when you get to Fawn Park.”

“Bossy,” Andy said. 

“Love you,” Kelley said.

**********

His mother’s rooftop greenhouse garden had been featured in magazines and newspaper articles. It was truly breathtaking, a thriving bit of life and color amidst the brick of Cambridge’s buildings. She’d been working on it since before Andy was born and her dedication showed in the magnificent displays of flora that shouldn’t have survived over thirty years of Massachusetts winters. It was her sanctuary and she always worked in it with a smile on her face and humming a song under her breath.

“You’re lingering,” she said, putting down a pair of shears and pulling off her gloves. She turned to him, the light catching on the grey in her hair, and smiled. “Surely whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

“Not bad,” Andy admitted. He carefully passed by the display of succulents and tried not to breathe near the precious collection of orchids. “I just don’t want to hear the _I’m not mad, I’m disappointed_ speech, again.”

She laughed. “Because we’ve had that speech so many times in your life. All of what? Four times in thirty-three years?” She walked over to her work bench and sat down, patting the space beside her. 

Andy truly relaxed for the first time since that morning’s call as he rested his head on his mother’s shoulder. 

“Andy?” she asked. 

“I need to go down to Fawn Park for a few months. Maybe six. Aunt Mae had an accident. She’s going to need help around the store and the house.”

“Surely there are locals--”

“—Mom,” he interrupted her. 

Her arms tightened around him. “I just don’t want to lose you to that place too.”

“I’m only helping Aunt Mae. I’m going to come home,” Andy said.

His mother laughed, sad and resigned. “You’ve always been in love with that town. With that store and with those neighbors. You’ve never loved city life.”

“I love the convenience,” Andy said.

“You love wide open spaces,” his mother argued. She shifted and Andy looked up to meet her eyes. “I can understand you leaving to initially check on her. I want you to think about if you really want to stay there. You’ll need at least a week to make arrangements here if you decide to go on sabbatical. You owe your clients that much, to leave their accounts in the right hands with the right people. You’ll need someone to take care of your home. Your father and I could try, but there’s no guarantee.”

Andy knew his parents assistants had to have their own conferences just to arrange the family schedules. There was no way his parents could drive down to his place to water the plants and make sure there were no squatters. Not that he would’ve asked them anyway. He already had an idea of who he could get to move in while he was gone. 

His mother laughed again. “I know that look. You’re already planning.”

“I’ve had a few hours,” Andy admitted. “I saw dad, called Kelley, and then came here.”

“So you’ve been making your contingency plans.” She cupped Andy’s cheek. “You’ve never been able to be indifferent. It’s one of the best things about you, Andy. You don’t know how _not_ to care.”

“There’s a reason I didn’t go into law,” Andy said. “I’d never be able to leave any of the cases behind.”

“I know,” she said as she stood. “Let’s go downstairs. There’s fresh lemonade and fruit. Let’s try to counteract that greasy breakfast sandwich I can smell on you. I hope your father enjoyed it. He’ll be having fish and a salad for dinner.”

“How do you _always_ know?” Andy asked. 

She stopped at the entrance to the greenhouse. “Promise me that you’ll give it a night, at least.”

“I promise,” he said.

They both knew he’d already made up his mind the second he’d heard about Mae.


	2. Two

Andy was up before the dawn on Sunday morning. He sat on the rooftop of his building, sipping on his coffee, and looking out over the Back Bay. When he’d purchased his condo, with his own money and some help from his family, he’d bought it with his future in mind. Spacious, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, an area next to the kitchen big enough for a large family table; a home he could grow into over the years. 

It’d been just him though, since he’d left grad school. He loved his condo, but even he could feel the emptiness of it as he rattled around it, all on his own, not even a cat, dog, or hell, a fish to keep him occupied. 

If he wasn’t careful he’d turn into his own version of Miss Havisham, only minus the wedding dress and the adopted daughter. So Miss Havisham in a faded bathrobe and maybe, one day, a hamster. 

“You’re looking particularly contemplative today,” Lena Riggi said. She took to the empty spot beside him like a queen on a throne, already made-up and polished for the day and it wasn’t even five in the morning. 

“How are you this awake already?” he asked. 

Lena shrugged. “I have a business brunch after Mass. I’ve been up preparing for it. Figured if I spent any more time in my sweat pants I’d never want to get out of them.”

Lena was one of the most successful junior partners at his father’s firm. She’d come to the city determined to make a name for herself and had done so with her work ethic, stubbornness, and unwillingness to take anyone’s shit. She’d been headhunted by other firms ever since, but Lena stayed where she’d started. She once told Andy it was because his father didn’t care that she hadn’t gone to an Ivy League law school and honestly hired based on merit. Sure, there were legacies at the firm like Ron and Nate, but they were also both extremely successful lawyers. His father always had an eye for the best and brightest, and Lena was the total package. 

“Tough case?” he asked.

“Tough client,” Lena said. She held her hand out for Andy’s cup and he gladly passed it over. She made a face after she took a sip. “A little cream and sugar wouldn’t kill you.”

“You could’ve brought your own cup,” he said.

Lena’s smile was soft as she said, “Didn’t want to wake John up with the smell. You know how Marines are about their coffee.”

Andy grinned. “He’s back?”

She nodded, happiness pouring out of her. “For good. He’s not going to re-up his contract.”

Andy leaned over and hugged her, pretended not to feel the slight tremor in her body or hear the sob in her voice, and just hugged her tighter. 

John Basilone-Riggi was finally becoming a retired Marine and Lena wouldn’t spend every free minute fearing that dreaded phone call or knock at the door. 

She pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “Why do I always cry in front of you?” She patted his cheek. “It must be that face of yours.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Andy said. “For you both. Next step time?”

Lena kept quiet as she stared out over the city. “I want to see how he adjusts to being a civilian. Then we’ll have the whole kids talk again.” She turned her gaze on him. “And what about you? When are you getting back out there in the dating pool?”

Andy made a face. “I think I’m going to die alone.”

Lena laughed so loud it disturbed the pigeons already pecking around the deck for some crumbs. 

“Thanks for the support,” Andy said between his own bouts of laughter.

Lena waved a hand in front of her face, tears of laughter now finally ruining her make-up for good, and tugged on the loose sleeve of Andy’s old robe to clean up the worst of the mess. 

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “If you get old and grey and bored, you’ll come live with us. We already promised to take JP.” Her face softened. “There was someone once, wasn’t there?”

“Not really,” Andy said. He traced his fingers over the faded Red Sox logo on his mug. “I was so focused on work for so long, you know. Proving that I deserve my place in the company and not just because I’m the owner’s son. By the time I felt like I could relax enough to focus on a romantic relationship, I realized I wasn’t going to be content settling for anything less than…” 

“Less than what?” Lena asked. 

Andy took a deep breath before he told Lena the truth and tired not to let himself feel _too_ pathetic. He was about to confront his past in full on technicolor, walking the same streets and staying in the same house as that young man he used to be—so naïve and so in love with a future ripe with possibilities, one that didn’t take into account the diverging paths of a country boy meant for the Marines and a city boy meant for corporate life.

“I—when I was,” he stopped again and gathered his thoughts. 

“Andy?” Lena asked, voice soft and hand warm on his arm. 

He took strength from her support and shook his head at himself.

“There was this kid, when I was younger,” he said. “He was a few years older than me and I only saw him during the summer. I was fifteen when we kissed for the first time, both of us covered in mud while trying to push his truck out of a ditch. That summer was _everything_. We promised to keep in touch, but he got shipped out to Basic Training the next year and I started my internships and we just, grew apart. It was this stupid summer thing when we were too young to know any better, but I’ve always wondered what _could_ have been if life was different.” He laughed. “Fuck it, I already love his entire family. It’s hard to let go of that dream life, you know, that whole world of _I’ll never know_. I’m not willing to settle for less than that and—fuck it—I _know_ I’ve sabotaged a few decent relationship chances because of it.”

“And you two haven’t talked about it since?” Lena asked. 

Andy shook his head. “We both never saw the point with my future so certain here and his, hell, wherever he was assigned. I know he’s teaching music now, somewhere in Canada I think. He’s always packing up his bags and going somewhere after a year or two. We don’t really talk much anymore, not about anything significant. His mother’s the main line of communication for us both.”

Lena started to speak and then shook her head. 

“What?” he asked. 

“It just seems such a shame that you don’t at least try again.” She tilted her head to the side. “Especially because you think that summer meant more to you than him and you’re trying to protect yourself and that boy in the past from the harsh truth if that’s really the case.”

Andy cursed. “Why do you have to be such a damn good lawyer?”

Lena shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

**********

Andy had been taught to be decisive. He had been taught to make the best decision that came out of a cost-benefit analysis. He had been told by countless teachers, advisors, and employers throughout his life that instinct and heart had to be passed over for the bottom line.

He’d always struggled with that last one and it was a rule his parents both generally ignored. For all her business acumen, his mother always told him to trust his instincts. For all his years fighting to make a name in the oversaturated world of Boston Law, his father always told him to follow his heart. 

Andy knew what had to be done, what was the _right_ decision even if it wasn’t the most economically sound one. So after he finished his coffee and conversation with Lena, he started packing. He needed to get his car inspected for the drive down to Fawn Park. He only ever used it a couple times a month, usually to help someone move a piece of furniture they’d bought, or for a rare weekend escape to Maine. He’d already made a list of which of his team members would take charge of his accounts. Most of them would go to Burgie; Romus Burgin, his team leader. Snafu, his second leader under Burgie, would also get a wealth of clients. 

Andy was pretty sure they’d be okay with the extra responsibilities, since he’d also be giving them a place to stay for the next four to six months. He needed someone in his condo and Burgie and Snaf both complained at least once a day about living in a triple decker with six other people: Gene, Snaf’s brother; Babe, Gene’s husband; Stella, a nursing student and co-worker of Gene’s; Renee, a fellow co-worker of Gene and Stella’s girlfriend; Bill, a pain in the ass Yankees fan who worked for the MBTA; and Jay, a quiet kid who went to Tufts and majored in Latin. It was a full house to say the least and Andy wasn’t above a little bribery. 

He kept checking the time, waiting until he knew his parents would be out of church and on their way home, as he dug out most of his casual clothes. He’d probably only need one or two of his suits, but worn jeans and plaid shirts were more the norm at the Murray’s store front than crisp white button-downs and ties. 

He had a suitcase and a duffle bag full when it was finally time to leave. He took a deep breath as he walked out of his condo, nodded to the concierge and the door man on the way out, and headed towards South Station to take the train up to Cambridge. He had little over a half hour to give himself the pep talk he needed. 

Andy didn’t hesitate at the foot of the old brick stairs leading up to the door of his parents’ home. He always smiled when he came here; the townhouse was his parents own little form of rebellion. They hadn’t raised him in the Quincy homestead out in Wellesley with three acres and eaves and turrets, or the Haldane homestead down on the Cape, but here in this little neighborhood near Central Square. 

His father answered the door before he could knock. Josiah shook his head and sighed when he saw Andy’s face. “When are you leaving?”

“I figured I’d give it a week, two weeks tops. I’ll sort out everything here and give Mae some time to get out of the hospital.”

His dad nodded and pulled the door open wider. “Well, come inside, the food’s getting cold.”

**********

Monday felt awkward. His mother had taken to pacing the upper floor of the firm, and she kept lingering at his office doorway whenever she left her own. He didn’t know if he was about to get a lecture from his mother or his boss, but he’d talked to the head of their Human Resources anyway to make sure his mother couldn’t actually fire him for requesting a sabbatical. Especially not when it was mostly her idea to begin with; at least that was his defense to Anna after she laughed at him over the phone for a good ten minutes.

“What did you do?” Burgie asked. He was at the conference table in Andy’s office looking at the various stacks of files and banker boxes piled up in front of him. 

“What did you do and why are we involved?” Snafu asked. 

“I’m taking some time off,” Andy said as he handed each of them a flash drive containing all his notes and write-ups on the clients their team personally handled. 

“Like a week?” Snafu asked. 

“Like six months,” Andy corrected. 

“Bullshit,” Snafu said. “You don’t even take two weeks off for vacation.”

Burgie leaned forward in his chair and stared at Andy, unblinking, and then shook his head and cursed softly under his breath. “He’s serious,” he told Snafu.

“My Aunt Mae had an accident,” Andy explained. “Her daughter’s in Germany and there are no other family members to go down there and help her at her home and at her store. Some neighbors are looking after her now, but it’ll be a long recovery. I’m the only family she has on this side of the Atlantic, and I’m perfectly able to take the time to go down there.”

Snafu gave him a look that would’ve chilled the blood of a lesser person. “So you’re abandoning us and we’re handling your shit, for what? The satisfaction of your approval of our performance? Maybe some overtime?”

Andy leaned back against desk. “Well, I was going to have you two stay in my condo free of charge while I’m gone, but if you just want the approval I can give you that instead.”

Snafu and Burgie exchanged a few looks and a couple shrugs. Burgie turned to Andy. “We’ll do it on one condition.”

Andy waved them off. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to give the Nixon account to anyone.” Handling the Nixon account, especially considering the company’s history after a noted factory explosion in New Jersey ten years ago, was not a burden he’d pass off to anyone else. 

It also didn’t help that dealing with the Nixons, be it the actual family members or the various members of the company’s board, would make even the most patient of saints want to punch someone in the face. Repeatedly. 

“Thank Christ,” Snafu said. 

“I don’t think I could survive another fight between Senior and Junior,” Burgie admitted. “But they’re an account that always requires extra attention. You really think you can handle them via teleconferences and personal phone calls?”

“I figured since every other business consulting firm in the greater Boston area has refused their account we have some leverage,” Andy said. “They’re always going to be viewed as outsiders by the business elders around here; new money from New York and New Jersey and made in industry on top of that. I mean, Mrs. Nixon has Boston connections, but not the kind that open doors to the caliber of people Nixon Corporation want to do business with in the Commonwealth.”

Snafu rolled his eyes. “They made their fortune over a century ago.”

“And most of the families here started building their fortunes when we still answered to the British Crown,” Andy said. 

“You New Englanders are so fucked up,” Snafu said. 

Andy patted him on the shoulder. “Why do you think all of Stephen King’s books are set in tiny New England towns?”

“That’s why whenever Gene makes noise about wanting to go to Maine I just shut him down,” Snafu said. 

“Wait, didn’t Babe take his friends to the Lizzie Borden house? “Burgie asked. “And made them stay the night?”

“Seriously, this region is so fucked up," Snafu said.

“Says the man who comes from a city where graveyards are a major tourist attraction,” Andy said. 

Snafu smiled. “And how many graveyards are on the Freedom Trail? Isn’t the entire city of Salem a tourist trap? Don’t people take their morning jogs through Mount Auburn?”

The reason Snafu was so good at his job was because he was almost always viciously, and bluntly, correct. 

“Moving on,” Andy said amidst the laughter of his traitor co-workers, “I’m trusting you two with the bulk of the accounts. I’m giving Shifty the non-profits and Kitty’s already volunteered to take our Harvard Square companies.”

“Thank god for Kitty,” Burgie said.

“Amen,” Snafu agreed. 

Five hours and a working lunch later, the office was in the process of shutting down for the day. Andy always liked to leave a little later than most. It gave time for the worst of the commuter traffic to pass on the trains and luckily only the Red Sox were playing tonight so there wouldn’t be a massive amount of people going into Boston, trying to make the connections out to Fenway or the Garden. 

He took the elevator to the top floor, his mother’s office, and met the knowing look of her secretary, Rosa. 

“Took you long enough,” she said. 

Andy shrugged. “I wanted to wait until I was officially off the clock.” 

Rosa patted his hand and opened the cookie jar on her desk. “Take one. They’re chocolate chip. Wipe off the crumbs before you see her though. You shouldn’t give her any more ammunition.”

“Thanks, Rosa.”

Rosa smiled at him. “It’s the right thing, what you’re doing. It might not be the most popular, and certainly not the choice most people in your position would make, but it’s the right thing.”

Andy had known Rosa since he was a teenager. She’d been like a second mother to him as she helped build up the business, take care of his mother’s schedule, and made sure he never got stranded at Phillips Academy during vacations. It always meant a lot to him to have her approval. 

“I expect weekly updates while you’re away. And you better call. None of this texting or e-mail bullshit. I better not find out you’ve met a nice young man via a Facebook status update.”

Andy held a hand over his heart. “I swear.”

Rosa nodded, salt and pepper curls swaying, and hit the buzzer for his mother’s door. “In you go,” she ordered. 

His mother wasn’t at her desk or standing by the large windows that faced the west. She was on the couch that often doubled as a bed during crunch time, heels kicked off and stocking feet propped up on the coffee table. She had a glass of whiskey on the side table and an old, faded photo album in her hands. 

“We thought Mae was going to become a professional musician. Symphony, of course. The Boston Pops had offered her a seat, you know.” She patted the cushion next to her. 

Andy quickly sat down and took the photo album she handed him. There was a picture of Mae, she couldn’t have been more than twenty, with a proud smile on her face and a violin cradled in her lap. 

“She got the seat for the National Sympathy Orchestra though, and off to Washington she went. And then she met Robert. We knew she’d never make much in terms of money as a musician, but the family was prepared to support her in following her dream. Besides, it was a brag for the family, of course. The prestige, to say we had a Quincy who turned down a seat in the Boston Pops to play with the National Symphony.”

She reached over and gripped Andy’s hand. “I love my sister and I loved Robert. I know he loved her and I know he felt guilt, for bringing her to Fawn Park. He had his own family legacy to keep, with that store. And I know it was her choice, to leave the symphony and to move with him to the middle of nowhere. I know she loves it there, the community, her home, and that business. I’ll always wonder about what could’ve been though, what she could’ve achieved, how far she could’ve gone. Instead she became a store owner and never plays for anything more dignified than her town’s Christmas pageant.”

“She loves that pageant,” Andy said. 

“I know,” his mother said. She took the album from Andy’s hands and closed it. “I don’t want to lose you to that place like I lost her. You—both of you—you love the simpler life.”

“Mom,” he said. She had tears in her eyes and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so vulnerable. “This is my home. My job. I’m coming back.”

She nodded. “Of course you are.” She laughed and wiped her eyes. “Well, did your boys take the bribe?”

Andy laughed. “Yeah. Hopefully my condo will survive their occupancy.”

**********

He was sorting through which toiletries to pack, and which ones he needed to stock up on, when he got the text from little Casey Jones.

_Mae’s out of surgery and awake. Already drew a dragon on her cast._

She sent him a picture of her drawing and the tired smile on Mae’s face. Andy immediately called her back.

“Is that Toothless?” he asked as Casey answered. 

“I mean, I only had a black Sharpie,” Casey said. “You want to talk to Mae?”

“Please,” Andy said. 

“Andrew,” Mae greeted, her voice soft. 

“Mae,” he said, trying to choke back unexpected tears.

“Andrew, I’m fine,” she said. “It’ll take more than one bad fall to take me out.”

“It better,” he said. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “So I’m going to come down for a couple months.”

“Andrew,” Mae said.

“Look, no arguing. I’ve already made arrangements. And I know the Joneses are helping, but the stairs in that house won’t be good for you.”

“My house is a mess, Andy. You shouldn’t leave your job. I’ll be fine.”

“Aunt Mae, I’ll sleep on the floor. For Christ’s sake, you need someone at the house and in the shop. I can do this until Kelley can manage to arrange some time off. You’ll have physical therapy appointments you’ll need rides to and check-ups with doctors and I’ve already filed my sabbatical paperwork.”

Mae sighed. “How upset is your mother?”

“She’s worried. I’ll tell her to call you tomorrow after you’ve had a good night’s rest.”

Mae was quiet for a few minutes before she finally said, “Thank you for this.”

“I love you, Mae,” Andy said. “It’s nothing you have to thank me for.”

“You’ve grown into such a good man,” Mae said. 

Andy didn’t know how to respond to that, but it made something inside him warm with approval. He made small talk until it was obvious Mae needed to sleep. He said goodnight to Casey as well and sighed as he rested his phone on the bathroom counter. 

There was still so much to do, but he knew now, without any doubt, he’d made the right decision.

**********

Andy loved both of his parents dearly and he knew they loved him just as much. He had also grown up knowing his life and childhood and relationship with his parents would always be different than that of the Jones family. Andy was an heir, the continued line of two prominent New England families. His maternal side traced back to the Mayflower. They were proud Daughters of the American Revolution and mothers of the Boston Brahmins. His father’s side didn’t arrive on the proverbial Plymouth Rock until the 1700s, so some families still viewed them as New Money. It meant something to his entire family line, the things he did: from what schools he’d attended going all the way back to kindergarten, to where he worked his summer jobs and his internships, to the parties and functions he attended and the invited crowds therein. It was its own type of burden, being a Haldane descended from the Forbes and being a Quincy descended from the Bradfords and the more prominent historical Quincys. His parents tried to let him form as much of his own identity as possible, gave him as much independence as they could while still sticking to their societal expectations and obligations, and they made damn sure he knew just how lucky he was to be so very privileged.

Andy was proud of his family, of his history, but he’d never wanted to continue the society life. He’d always felt like he could breathe easier removed from his parents’ expectations, be it in boarding school or college. And now he was in his 30s and marriage prospects were being talked about like he didn’t have his own damn choice, and if someone tried to set him up with one of the Kerrys or Kennedys again he’d lose his hard fought composure.

That was one of the reasons he’d always been close to Aunt Mae. She’d left all the bullshit that came with being here behind and forged her own path with her own name, where no one knew her. Andy knew it hadn’t been easy, that most of the family still refused to speak to her, and that Mae and his cousin Kelley had been cut out of most of the wills; that Kelley had an entire extended family she knew very little about, but Andy had always envied her for that. She might have felt the loss, but she didn’t have to live with the weight of all those expectations.

 _Grass is still shat on by dogs wherever you are, Andy_. That’s what his Uncle Rob always told him whenever Andy had finally broken down and voiced his complaints to Mae. He missed that man with all his heart. 

Andy still loved Boston. And he honestly loved his job, even on days when he had to handle the Nixons and the Dikes, but he wished sometimes his last name wasn’t Haldane. Whenever he met someone it was always, ‘Oh, are you one of _those_ Haldanes?’ and then he had to fake social niceties until he could escape. 

And while Andy loved museums and Michelin Star restaurants, sometimes a guy just wanted a shitty beer, greasy food, and a game in the cheap seats at Fenway for a date. His last date had tried to impress him with caviar and a night around the harbor on his yacht. 

As much as he was going to Fawn Park for Aunt Mae, Andy definitely needed to get away for his own sake as well. 

“You look like you’re about to break,” Nate Fick said.

Nate, much like Andy, came from a society family. They were more of a Connecticut legacy and still had some weird fascination with their ancestral connections to the Hawthornes, but Nate had turned out okay. He was a natural leader, even if he was very much an idealist, and was one of the top young lawyers in Boston. Andy was just waiting for the day when Nate decided to direct his career path towards politics. He had the trustworthy face and manner for it; the kind of face that helped him win cases could definitely win elections. A lot of people doubted Nate at first, with his baby face smile and wide eyes, and then got the surprise of their lives when he verbally eviscerated them, be it in a courtroom or a barroom argument.

“I’m having a crisis of confidence,” Andy said.

“So that’s why we’re having shitty pizza for lunch,” Nate said.

Andy threw a balled up napkin at him. “Papa Gino’s won’t kill you.”

“It just might,” Nate said. He looked over Andy’s shoulder. “We could walk to the North End from here. There are at least fifteen better pizza places in Charlestown alone.”

“Nate, let me just be nostalgic.”

“For shitty pizza?” Nate asked. He gave Andy a searching look and then shrugged. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Andy said.

“But is there a reason why Ron isn’t joining us? Because you tend to grab both of us when you need a pep talk lunch and escape from your mother.”

“Ron’s taking me out for drinks later.”

Nate’s eyebrows lifted and he picked up his phone.

“What are you doing?” Andy asked.

“Making sure to move some money out of my savings to cover your bond postings later,” Nate said. “The last time you went out for drinks Ron tried to steal a Paul Revere statue.”

“It was only a little one,” Andy said.

“And a pair of Revere silver cups,” Nate said.

“He was trying to prove that museum had shitty security,” Andy said. “And that statue is an eyesore. He was doing a public service.”

Nate just raised his eyebrows and let his face speak for him. 

“We’re not going to steal anything,” Andy said. “And if we do, I know a good lawyer.”

“I’m not a criminal lawyer,” Nate said. 

“I was talking about Vera,” Andy said.

Nate nodded. “Okay, yeah.” He pushed his plate to the side. “So are you going to ask me what you really need to ask me?”

Nate has always been good at getting people to talk about things they _really_ didn’t want to talk about. He’d gotten even better since he’d become a stepfather. 

“Please watch out for my parents while I’m gone,” Andy said. “I know they’re more than capable of taking care of themselves, but we both know there are going to be whispers when I leave.”

“I’ll definitely be sure to tell the story of your great charity act. It’s going to bring Mae’s scandal back to the forefront though.” Nate grimaced. “I’ll watch out for your mom at the next major dinner party.”

“Thank you,” Andy said. 

“So when do you leave?” Nate asked. 

“Tomorrow morning,” Andy said. “It’s a bit of a drive and I’m taking the country roads.” He held his hand up before Nate could ask his next question. “I got the car checked out this morning.”

“Good,” Nate said. “And Lena said two of your employees are taking over your condo?”

Andy nodded. “Burgie and Snafu. You’ve met them. Snafu is Merriell Shelton.”

Nate made a face. “Yes, I recall. He asked me if I was old enough to drink and then called my driver’s license a forgery after he demanded I show it to him. And then he kept calling me '21 Jump Street.'”

Andy tried not to laugh as he remembered that night. “You do look a little young.”

“Fuck you,” Nate said. “I’ll check on your condo too, just to make sure they haven’t burned it down. Anyone with the nickname Snafu comes with an automatic warning.”

“He’s really a great guy,” Andy said. “You’ve just got to know him first.”

“Yeah,” Nate said, “I’ll just willingly go and stick my head in that lion’s mouth.”

Andy laughed. “Don’t let him smell your fear.” He nodded to Nate’s phone. “Any new pictures of the girls on there?”

“Do you want to see Matlida’s face when trying on the wig for her Irish dance competition? Or do you want to see McKenzie covered in mud from her soccer game?”

“How about both?” Andy asked. 

He relaxed as he watched Nate play the proud father, surrounded by the smells of forbidden shitty pizza from their preteen years, and feeling more grounded than he had in days.


	3. Three

“That’s the last of it.” 

Andy closed the trunk hatch on his SUV and dragged his fingers over the Red Sox Nation sticker on the back window. He glanced around his busy street, the sounds of train tracks and heavy traffic, and the glut of foot traffic on the sidewalks. He took a moment to take it all in, to remember it, and then took a deep breath of the salty ocean air. 

Three water balloons dropped on his head. He glared up at the top of his building and squinted hard enough until he saw six hands waving at him from the roof lounge. He should’ve known having Lena and Snafu around each other would turn Burgie against him. He gave them a one-fingered salute and pulled off his t-shirt, ignoring the catcalls coming from above, used it to dry off as much of his hair as he could, and grabbed a dry shirt from his luggage. 

The last thing he wanted to do was drive nearly seven hours with a soaked shirt and wet hair. He was already going to look like shit when he arrived on Annabeth’s doorstep. He didn’t want to add anything to what he knew would be a truly pathetic picture. 

“You going to take off the pants too?” Snafu yelled down. “Shake that money-maker, Haldane!”

Andy just laughed to himself and got in the car, knowing everything would be just fine here in Boston. 

Getting on the highway was the kind of shitshow that only came with trying to drive surrounded by his fellow Massholes. Andy gritted his teeth, tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and reminded himself he was taking the scenic route to Aunt Mae’s. Once he got out of the gridlock it’d be a beautiful, if epically long, drive to the Pennsylvania-Maryland border. His plan was to drive straight through to Edison, NJ, a little more than halfway there, then rest for an hour or so. Hopefully his body, eyes, and car would be willing. 

He almost stopped in Worcester to take a picture of the turtle boy to send to Snafu and traumatize him for real, but that was really a thing Snafu needed to see in person and Andy had a good six months to plot his revenge. Turtle boy at least would have to wait for their first weekend trip upon Andy’s return. 

He laughed at himself as the traffic finally started to open up. Not even past the Greater Boston Area and he was already planning for his time back home.

**********

Just after he’d passed over the Connecticut-New York border and started going through the gorgeous towns of the Mid-Hudson Valley, Andy’s phone rang. He quickly hit the Bluetooth button on his steering wheel and let the caller’s voice flood through his speakers.

“Andy?” his father asked.

“Hi dad,” he said. “I just passed into New York.”

“Damn Yankees,” Josiah said.

Andy laughed and remembered every single one of his father’s long, excessive, truly world-class rants against the Bronx Bombers and their fans.

“Some of them might be Mets fans.”

“Like the National League makes it any better,” Josiah said. “You’re feeling well? Not too tired yet, I hope. Don’t forget to pull over if you start feeling fatigued.”

“I know; I will,” Andy said.

Josiah sighed. “You won’t, because you’re as stubborn as your mother, but at least I can say I reminded you.”

“Pretty sure I come by it honestly from both sides,” Andy said. He shook out one of his hands as it started to cramp. “I’ll stop when I get tired, I promise.”

“You better,” Josiah said. “I’ll leave you to it, but before I go, Nate Fick dropped off a breakfast sandwich for me this morning. He told me he was _assured_ that I’d enjoy it.”

Andy was glad his father couldn’t seem him wince. Nate only used _assured_ when he was trying to save face against something he found completely dumb or completely ridiculous. 

“He’s a great lawyer and a good friend,” Andy hurriedly said. 

“I don’t need a babysitter, Andrew,” Josiah said. 

“I know,” Andy said. “But I’m not there for our weekend tradition anymore, so Nate’s carrying it on in my absence. Even if it is a day early.”

Josiah laughed. “Okay, I’ll let you use that excuse. Call us when you stop. Love you, son.”

“Love you, dad,” Andy said and disconnected the call. He turned up his radio and sang along to Bruno Mars as he drove down the interstate. 

The closer he got to the Hudson’s east bank, the harder he had to fight to not make an extra trip to Sleepy Hollow. Aunt Mae had always loved Halloween, used to go to Salem almost every other weekend when she lived in Boston, and owned quite a few first editions of Washington Irving’s works. 

He _was_ already making good time and his father _had_ told him to rest. Besides, it wasn’t like he had an actual structured time-table he had to stick to. 

He couldn’t believe he was arguing with himself, in his car, against something he wanted to do. 

Andy merged towards the exit ramp and tried not to roll his eyes at himself.

**********

Nearly nine hours later, thanks to traffic and a couple of side trips, Andy finally pulled up the long gravel driveway of the Jones homestead. The large farmhouse shone like a beacon out on the dark country road. Andy felt his spine pop in four different places when he got out of the car and stretched. He ran a hand through his hair, tried to smooth down the wrinkles in his shirt, and grabbed on to the door when his knees almost buckled as he moved.

“You’re getting old, Haldane!” 

Andy turned to find the gap-toothed smile of a grown Ryan Jones behind him. He had a dirt bike helmet in one hand and a pair of shoulder pads in the other. Even in the low light coming from the house Andy could see he was covered in mud. 

“You planning on hosing yourself down before you walk inside?” he asked. 

Ryan shrugged. “I’ll just go in through the side-door. Mom will never know.” He lightly punched Andy with a dust covered glove as he walked by. “Get your ass inside. You’re all they’ve been able to talk about all week.”

“Good to see you, Ry!” Andy called after him. 

“Glad you finally dragged your ass back here,” he called out as he slipped through the tall wooden gate that marked the back yard from the fields. 

The front door opened as Andy set foot on the stone path leading from the driveway to the front porch. He looked up and grinned at who stood there. 

The last time he saw Casey Jones was at his uncle’s funeral. She’d grown at least three inches since then, chopped most of her hair off and dyed what was left of it a bright purple, and acquired some facial piercings that must’ve been the talk of the church potluck dinners for the past year. She had a smudge of purple paint on her cheek, a Snoopy Band-Aid on the back of her hand, and a wide smile on her face as she jumped down the porch steps to greet him. 

“Andy!”

She barreled into him at full speed, hugging him tight enough to squeeze all the air out of his lungs. 

“Casey,” he said with a laugh. He picked her up off the ground and grinned as she started to yell at him. 

“You’re going to throw your back out, old man,” she said.

“Worth it,” he said. He carefully put her back down and hugged her close again. “Thank you for taking care of Aunt Mae.”

“She’s family,” Casey said, simple as that. She went still and then said, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Casey hadn’t even been born the last time he’d spent an entire summer in Fawn Park. He’d spent one winter break here when she was barely five months old. She’d only known him through the very brief stops he’d made over the years and entirely too long phone conversations as he called the house to catch up with her mother. Somehow she’d become one of his favorites; the little sister he’d never had, and the one he was ridiculously proud of, who even at fourteen had the kind of steely determination Andy admired.

“Missed you little Liberty.”

He didn’t have to look down to know Casey had scrunched up her face.

“I still can’t believe they named me that.”

“You were born on July third. Be glad they didn’t name you Independence,” he said.

“Or Americus Nation,” she said. “At least it’s only my middle name. No one else ever has to know.” She hugged him tight once more and then released him. She gave him a dark look reminiscent of her mother. “You’re late.” 

Andy laughed as she put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you say it,” she warned. 

He winked at her and licked her palm, playfully dodging the elbow she tried to stick him with as she wiped off her other hand on his shirt. 

“I was just going to say,” Andy started between his bouts of laughter, “that I made a few stops. And that a wizard is never late.”

Casey rolled her eyes and pointed to the door. “Get your nerdy ass inside, Gandalf.”

The main house of the Jones Family Farm was one of the most lived-in, comfortable places Andy had ever seen in all his travels. It always smelled delicious, the result of almost all meals being home cooked and Bill Jones’ habit of making home-baked bread and various baked goods. His cookies, brownies, and mini-pies were so in-demand by the community that they had their own sale counter at Murray’s Food & Supplies. It was a little dated, a whole lot worn, but love and pride and comfort came from all corners of the house.

There was a runner carpet by the side of door, and a pile of muddy boots and sneakers plopped on it with little grace. A side table held heaps of keys and loose change and random packs of gum. He smiled at the wall of photographers that greeted him just inside the foyer. They went from the floor all the way up the ceiling, a visual story of the entire family, from Annabeth and Bill’s first date to the births of Faith and Tristian, the youngest of the grandkids. 

His study was rudely when interrupted when Balto, the eldest of the Joneses’ ever-increasing pack of stray dogs, went right for the jump-hug. 

“Hey, boy,” Andy greeted him with a smile. He got a face full of drool in response, but it was worth it as he patted the greying fur around Balto’s muzzle. “Guess I’m not the only one getting old, huh?” 

“He’s older than me,” Casey said. 

“Only by a little bit,” Andy said as he carefully helped Balto to the ground. “Everyone out back?”

“Dad’s in the kitchen. Aunt Mae’s resting in the family room.” Casey kicked at his shins. “Take off your shoes, you heathen.”

Andy kicked them off into the pile by the door, trying to line them up neatly to make some sense of the chaos. He leaned down and kissed Casey’s forehead. “Tell your mom I’ll be right out.”

“Got it,” Casey said. She shoved him towards the family room. “Go on. She’s fine, but you’re not going to believe me until you see for yourself.”

Andy walked down the hallway, passing by the living room with its two large worn couches, a new flat-screen tv on the wall where an ancient entertainment center from the 1980s of particle board and duct tape used to hold court. There were still the hand-sewn cushions and beanbags in the corner, the only seating solution possible for such a large family who insisted on full participation for game nights and _Jeopardy!_ viewings. The music room came after that, bursting with various stringed instruments and an entire horn section. Grandma Jones’ upright piano still sat against the wall, well-used and well-loved. Andy trailed his fingers over the old faded wallpaper as he passed by two bedrooms, one with a door decorated with stickers that spelled out _Casey_ and another with a carved wooden sign hanging off the doorknob that said _Sam_. Andy laughed that both girls, after all these years, had finally got their own rooms. He knew the rest of the bedrooms were on the upper floor of the house, including Eddie’s old room in the attic, and that few of those rooms were occupied now. 

The family room’s pocket door was slid open and Andy smiled at his Aunt Mae, one side of her body resting against a wall of pillows, cursing at the Kindle in her hand. 

“Stop moving the page you little bastard!” she yelled. 

“You know you can lock the screen,” Andy said. 

Mae’s Kindle dropped to the floor as she held her arms out. “Don’t make me get my ass up. You get over here and give me a hug. Look at you!” 

Andy followed, carefully gathering her close before gently putting her back down. She felt fragile under his hands, even though he knew she wasn’t, he couldn’t help the lump in his throat. 

“Stop that,” she said. She patted his cheek and shook her head. “I’m fine. A little broken, but I’m on the mend. You and Kelley are acting like I’m knocking at death’s door. I’ve got a couple more decades yet.”

“We were scared,” Andy said. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of one of her hands. They were starting to badly wrinkle. She still wore her wedding band and engagement ring.

“I scared myself,” Mae admitted. “Too damn stubborn for my own good, I guess.” She smiled up at him. “You feel like helping an old lady move her ass?”

Andy saw her crutches propped up against the wall. “It would be my pleasure.”

A long shuffling walk later that nearly aged Andy twenty years as he walked behind Mae in case she fell, finally brought them to the back porch. The dogs were scratching at the door, all except Balto and Lucy, a setter-golden mix, locked out until they learned their manners. Freddie and Mercury, the two black cats Eddie once found in Florida while on leave, were stretched out across one of the rocking chairs. Casey and Sam were setting the table, while Hannah curled up in one of the other rocking chairs and texted someone on her phone. Ryan, freshly showered, kept carting food back and forth from the kitchen where Andy could hear Bill singing along to the radio. Annabeth had a lap full of grandchildren and Andy shook his head in disbelief that both of the Jones twins, Jackie and Jacob, were parents now. 

Of the elder Jones siblings, only Jackie remained a local. The other kids had scattered to the winds. Heather and her wife and kids were in Pittsburgh, but Andy knew they visited at least once a month. Jacob and his family were in Baltimore, Tyler and his wife and daughter were in Seattle, and Melissa had surprised everyone by getting into Duke Law and moving to Durham. Eddie? He’d always gone whichever way the wind blew after he’d left the Marines. 

“Andy!” Annabeth cried when she saw them. She tried to get up, but was weighed down by the kids in her lap.

“I’ll come to you,” Andy said after he helped Mae get situated. 

He stopped to tap Hannah on the head and laughed at the glare she gave him and sideswiped Sam when she tried to smack on the ass with a dish towel. He finally got through the gauntlet of dogs and cats and kids to Annabeth’s rocking-chair throne. He carefully hugged her around the lap full of children, trying not to cry again when she kissed his cheek and squeezed the back of his neck with her one free hand. 

“You look like a whole world of tired,” she said. 

“It was a long drive,” Andy said. 

Annabeth shook her head. “That ain’t it and you know it.” She gave him a look. “You’re staying here tonight. No need for you to get back in that car. We’ll get some food in you, let you take a shower, and then right up to bed.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Andy said.

She tapped him on the nose. “Don’t you sass me, Andrew Haldane. I can still take you over my knee.”

He had no doubt she could.

“Well, what’d you expect?” Bill Jones said as he came out carrying two trays of lasagna. “Those Boston boys don’t have any manners. Boy expects to eat my food and doesn’t even greet me first.” He walked over to Andy and pulled him into a hug almost lifting him off his feet. “We’ll just have to keep him here until he knows better.”

“Missed you too, Bill,” Andy said.

Bill let him go and frowned as he patted at Andy’s shirt. “You lost weight since we last saw you. Need to fatten you up.” He grabbed one of the fresh breadsticks from the table. “Eat this.”

Andy knew better than to argue with anyone in this family and took it all in good grace as he was shoved into a chair and had a full plate in front of him before anyone else was served. He looked up and met Casey’s wide smile, felt Aunt Mae pat his hair, and enjoyed just how full his heart felt in that moment.

**********

They stuck him in the attic, up in Eddie’s old room, and Andy could only laugh at the obviousness of the action. Freddie had followed him up after his shower, and had made himself at home in the pile of Andy’s dirty clothes. Andy walked around the room and tried to remember the last time he was up here.

He was fifteen. It was late summer, just before he left, the oppressive heat finally breaking. There had been a thunderstorm that day and he and Eddie had gotten caught in it, soaked through to the bone, and both had been scolded by Annabeth for walking around in wet clothes. They’d come up here, changed into to dry clothes, Eddie’s shirts far too long on Andy then, but tight through the shoulders, and watched as the rain continued to fall. There had been music playing from Eddie’s old, battered stereo. Andy couldn’t remember the song, maybe it was the Gin Blossoms or the Goo Goo Dolls. He just remembered Eddie’s fingers in his hair, running through until it was dry, his breath on Andy’s neck; the tingle down his spine whenever their lips met. 

Andy laughed at himself. He needed to get over this part of his past. He needed to move on from a relationship that never really was, nothing but some summertime puppy love. But tonight, inside the walls that had borne witness to that time, he let himself reminisce for just a little bit longer. 

He set his phone by the bedside table, pulled back the blue comforter that had seen better days, and forced himself to close his eyes and sleep.


	4. Four

Saturday morning Andy woke to a growl in his ear and a face-full of fur. Freddie had been replaced by Beelzebub, the Jones’ ancient black and grey tabby who had always seemed to have a taste for Andy’s flesh. He still had a scar on his ankle from one of Beelzebub’s attacks. 

“Hello, Cat Satan,” Andy greeted him. Beelzebub hissed, swatted at Andy’s head, then jumped off the bed and ran for the door. 

“Amazed the old lady can still move like that,” Andy muttered to himself. He hauled his ass out of bed and grabbed his toiletries bag before heading downstairs to the bathroom. 

After he made himself presentable enough for public viewing, he hurried down to the main floor. His mouth watered at the smell of fresh bacon and pancakes that wafted from the kitchen. He met Mae at the foot of the stairs, shuffling with her walker towards the food. 

“Race you?” he offered.

“I will run into your ankles with this contraption,” Mae warned. 

Andy held his arm out and gestured for her to go ahead. “Ladies first.”

“At least you didn’t tell me ‘age before beauty.’ It’d be a shame to send you back to Boston in a coffin.”

Andy had forgotten just how salty Mae was before her first cup of coffee. It was an absolute delight to see again. 

Annabeth and Casey were at the table while Bill and Ryan held court at the stove. Hannah had a piece of bacon in her mouth, a jacket on one arm, and her keys in the other hand. 

“You’re going to be late,” Annabeth said. 

“Only a bit,” Hannah said. She dodged past Andy and Mae, waving at them both, and ran out the front door. 

Sam caught the door from the other side before it could slam closed. She was drenched in sweat, earbuds hanging around her neck, and Balto’s and Shiloh’s leashes in her hands, the dogs patiently waiting at her feet to be let free. 

“Go eat,” Sam said as she let them go. She wiped a hand across her forehead and frowned at the sweat. “I’m going to shower. Make sure they save some food,” she said. She gave Andy a tight, sweaty hug before running towards her room, cackling the entire way. 

“Still regret being an only child?” Mae asked. 

“Little bit,” Andy admitted. 

He helped Mae get settled at the table, leaned over to kiss the top of Casey’s head and Annabeth’s cheek, before seeing what he could help carry. Bill shoved an entire platter of bacon into his arms while Ryan tried to balance a basket of napkins on Andy’s head. 

Andy was never more thankful for those stupid posture lessons he had to take at school. The round of applause when he successfully made it to the table was doubly worth that semester from etiquette hell.

“They teach you that at school?” Ryan asked.

“Actually, yes,” Andy said. “A proper businessman has proper posture,” he recited. “It was an elective course my parents felt would help me later on in life.”

“And has it?” Bill asked.

Mae winked at Andy as she answered for him. “There are some older men who refuse to even speak to a younger business person if they aren’t properly dressed, groomed, and standing up straight. For some people it’s all about appearance.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Casey said.

“It is,” Mae said. She pushed around some food on her plate. “It’s all an act, of course. You can be wrapped up in the prettiest packaging in the world and still be a horrible person on the inside. I don’t miss it.”

Andy felt everyone’s eyes on him and shrugged. “Assholes are assholes no matter where you are. It’s just better when they show their true colors from the start, rather than stabbing you in the back later.”

“Ain’t that just the prettiest breakfast table image you ever heard,” Annabeth said. She nudged Ryan. “Pass the butter please and let us move on to something more pleasant.”

**********

_Murray’s Food & Supplies_ took up nearly a block of main street Fawn Park. It was an institution in its own right; a store that sold everything from generators to baked goods to pre-paid phones. The Penny Candy counter sat next to the digital media wall. The second floor had a lounge area to enjoy food or read a book or browse the clothing and hand-made stationary sections. Murray’s allowed plenty of people to make some extra money, selling the same goods they made for the farmer’s markets in the big cities to their neighbors. It was a meeting place for the rural and farm communities spread across state lines, had seen as many public debates as the town hall, and often received more deliveries for the area’s residents than the county post office. It was open seven days a week, closed only on a few holidays, and had seen its owners sleeping inside the store during more than one bad winter storm. If people made the effort to get to Murray’s for a much-needed generator or food or other emergency supplies, Mae herself stayed until the storm passed.

Ryan and Casey had been managing the store in Mae’s absence; with Ryan taking most of the responsibility. A few other local high schools kids worked the afternoon, early evening, and weekend shifts and Andy tried to remember all their names as Ryan walked him past the back wall full of pictures. 

“Hannah and Sam have been covering some shifts too,” Ryan said. “None of us are Mae though. Leckie, he’s one of the guys living over at Smith’s Farms, he’s been helping too but he’s got a bit of an attitude.”

“Not customer service material?” Andy asked. 

Ryan laughed. “Not if we want any of the customers to return, no. He’s been helping with the stocking, sorting, and inventory. Honestly being here to take in some of the vendor deliveries has allowed me to get some sleep. I don’t know how Mae does it. She makes it look so easy and I’ve been working here since I was fourteen.”

Andy shrugged as he walked through the store, taking in all the subtle changes since the last time he’d been inside. There were so many personal touches; in the humor on the posted signs, the décor on the wall, the old toy and gumball vending machines Mae refused to get rid of, the picture of Robert, Mae, and a baby Kelley hanging on the wall behind the counter, and the long-line of Murray family members displayed in the _About Us_ section by the entrance that also held a hutch full of Murray’s branded merchandise. Andy ran his fingers down one of the perfectly folded t-shirts and he allowed himself a sad smile at the sign explaining how proceeds from the sales would go to the American Cancer Society and the Wounded Warrior Project in memory of Robert Murray. 

He turned at the sound of a loud crunch and saw Ryan smile through a mouth full of peanut butter brittle. 

“You just ate,” Andy said. 

“I’m a growing boy,” Ryan said. He waved a hand towards the loft. “You can go sit up there while I open. Leyla should be here in an hour to take over. Her kids just had soccer practice this morning.”

“Shouldn’t I be learning the opening duties?” Andy asked. 

Ryan smirked. “Let us both enjoy two more days of relaxation and freedom before we ship you off on to the retail boat. I’ve got to revise the handbook. Besides, you need to learn the register first. We switched over to a new touchscreen system.”

Andy knew better than to think it would be easy. The old system wasn’t exactly his friend either. 

“Your face,” Ryan said. He pointed to the stairs. “Seriously, go have a Coke and a smile and once Leyla’s here we’ll head over to Mae’s.”

Andy nodded his thanks. Ryan was spending his day off opening the store and then going to Mae’s to help Andy clean the place and get it situated for Mae’s recovery. It was a hell of a nice thing to do, and Ryan didn’t seem the least bit bothered by sacrificing his weekend. 

“Seriously, stop looking like you need to go buy me a shiny new toy,” Ryan said. “It’s family. Mae’s family. _Your_ New England ass is family. We take care of each other. Don’t thank me for being a decent person.”

“It’s a nice thing to do,” Andy said. 

Ryan rolled his eyes as he headed towards the back room. “It’s not being a self-centered jackass, and we both know my parents raised me better than that.”

Upstairs there was a cooler with glass bottles of Coke, Diet Coke, and Sprite. It was an honor system deal, with a collection box next to the counter. Andy didn’t hesitate to stuff a $20 in there for his $1.25 soda. He could never give Mae or the Joneses any of his money outright, but he could do the little things. 

He walked around the loft, skirting past empty wooden tables and overstuffed arm chairs, each piece mismatched and yet somehow it all went together. A tiny stage was set-up off to one side, just enough room for a stool, a microphone, a keyboard, and a guitar. Open Mic nights were a long tradition here, far removed from any corporate or independent coffee houses. They’d started back when Eddie and Heather used to sing together; Heather with the far more melodic voice and Eddie with the talented fingers on guitar and voice just the right tone to harmonize with his sister. 

Andy finally settled down in the window seat, looked down at the street below, and silently sipped his drink as he waited.

**********

Mae and Robert Murray’s home was an old Victorian farmhouse nestled on acres of open land. It was secluded and peaceful, with a long gravel driveway leading to the house from the ornate street gate. It used to be a working farm, but the Murrays had turned most of those parts of the property over to the county long-ago. Buses full of school children tended to come in the fall on field trips to see the restored and preserved out house, summer kitchen, pump house, ice house, smoke house, and barn.

The Murrays never had the money of the Haldanes, but they’d made their name as merchants and, as time went on and their initial new wealth faded, they sold off and rented out what they could. The house and the store were the last remnants of that family history, but both were quite a legacy to leave. 

It still worried Andy that Mae was out here, all on her own, in this huge house by herself. She seemed fine with it, but no one could make Andy believe she wasn’t lonely. It was one thing to willingly choose a quiet life, alone, out in the country, it was another to be here on her own years before anyone anticipated. 

The porch would be the biggest obstacle in getting Mae to and from the house. Luckily once inside her bedroom, a large bathroom, and the kitchen were all on the main floor. It was certainly a stroke of good luck that one of the old first floor sitting rooms had been converted to a master bedroom years ago. 

They spent the first hour moving the furniture, creating an open direct path from the foyer, through the living room, and to the bedroom. They strategically moved some of the chairs from the dining room, the office, and the back porch, to provide plenty of needed resting spots and hand-holds for the walk. Andy left Ryan to tackle cleaning out the fridge and sorting the stack of mail, while he took on the master bedroom and bath. 

Andy grabbed a clean set of sheets out of the linen closet and quietly entered Mae’s bedroom. It felt wrong, almost like trespassing, as he walked around her room. It would’ve been one thing if she was here, having him help change all the bedsheets in the house like he used to do during those beloved summers, but not now. Now there was no Kelley running up and down the stairs, Lollipop, the pitbull barking and chasing her, her laughter echoing through the house. There was no Uncle Robert humming under his breath as he stood in the laundry room with soap and a scrub-brush trying to get grass stains out of his jeans after spending hours mowing the acres of land. It was a house full of memories and ghosts and it all sent a shiver down Andy’s spine. 

Maybe he could convince Mae to get a dog or a cat or something to help breathe life into a house that was starting to feel like a mausoleum. The bedroom was completely unchanged from the last time Andy was here, when he helped sort through Uncle Robert’s belongings to decide what stayed as keepsakes, what was to be donated, and what had to be thrown out. A dish on the dresser still held his watch and wedding ring and Andy knew Rob’s favorite Orioles’ jersey still hung in the closet, along with the suit jacket he married in and the red plaid shirt he always wore, without fail, every single Saturday, even when it had grown far too big for his shrinking body. 

“Fucking cancer,” Andy muttered to himself as he started to pull the decorative pillows off the bed. Next were the actual pillows, then the comforter, then the sheets, all tugged a bit more aggressively as he tried to ignore the tears in his eyes. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _right_ that Mae was alone now, but there was nothing anyone could do to change it. 

Andy took a deep breath and sorted himself out. He had to get the corner of the new bedsheets just perfect for Mae’s approval and that couldn’t be done with shaking hands. 

“You okay?” Ryan asked. He had a cleaning mask pulled down around his neck and lavender cleaning gloves on his hands, with a roll of paper towels sticking out of his jean pocket. 

“Yeah,” Andy said after he cleared his throat. “Just—you know.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. He pulled off the gloves and walked over to the other side of the bed. He helped pull the sheet tight to fit on the other corner of the bed. 

“I cried my eyes out when Eddie went to Basic,” Ryan said after a while. “Like, yeah, I had Jacob, but Eddie was _my_ hero. I was only five when he left for the first time, but I remember feeling like the world ended. And Uncle Rob? He didn’t tell me not to cry when Eddie left. He just picked me up and held me and let me cry on him any time I was sad. He taught me a lot of things Dad and Eddie probably should’ve, but it was Uncle Rob who taught me how to ride a bike, and fish, and skate. I loved him a hell of a lot.”

“I know,” Andy said. Rob had one of the biggest hearts ever. “He was an easy man to love.”

“He was family,” Ryan said. “I know you hear us say that a lot, but it’s true. Mae and Robert they’re _family_ to us, Andy. So I get it, how the loss of Rob feels like this heavy thing on your chest, weighing you down, making you choke.” He looked around the room. “I like it, though, that you can still feel him here and in the store. I swear he’s haunting my ass whenever I don’t use proper lifting technique, yelling at me from beyond the grave to bend with my knees and not with my back.”

Andy laughed at that; he’d grown up with that lecture. 

“And Mae and Rob opened their house to me when I needed to get away. Look, I love Fawn Park, I don’t want to leave, but sometimes I just need to get away from my sisters. So I have a room here and I still stay in it, especially during the winter.” He looked up at Andy, a face full of understanding. “She’s not alone.”

Andy smoothed down the comforter and looked over the perfectly made bed. 

“Thank you, Ryan,” he said.

Ryan nodded, passed by Andy with a hand gripping his shoulder, and left him in the bedroom to have a few more minutes to himself.

*********

“You’ll stay here again tonight,” Annabeth said the second Andy stepped in the door. “Tomorrow night as well. We have the big meal after church of course, not that we’re expecting you to go to the service.”

“You godless heathen!” Bill laughingly yelled from his seat in the living room. 

“Mae wants to attend, of course, but we’ll settle her in the car,” Annabeth promised.

“Just strap her down in the flatbed and she’ll be fine,” Bill said.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and ran a hand over her greying hair. “Honestly don’t know why I ever married that man.”

“You liked the way my ass looked in jeans,” Bill said.

“Dad!” Casey yelled from down the hall. 

“Well, honestly, Casey, there are ten of you,” Bill said. “Your mother and I do like each other.”

“Jesus,” Andy muttered to himself as he tried to hold in his laughter. Annabeth gave him a wink and tugged on his arm. “Come and sit with us.” She looked over his shoulder at Ryan. “You need a shower.”

“I cleaned out the fridge,” Ryan said. “There was an old pot roast. It almost won the battle, but I won the war.” He held up his shirt collar to his nose, took a whiff, and gagged. “I’ll be in the shower.”

“Come, sit with us,” Annabeth said as she led Andy to the living room. “We haven’t had a proper talk.”

“Feels more like an interrogation,” Andy said.

“That’s a matter of perspective,” Annabeth said. She sat down next to Bill, leaving one spot at the end of the couch for Andy. 

Andy took his seat. If he looked straight ahead he saw a framed portrait of Eddie in his Dress Blues. If he turned to his right, he’d meet the questioning eyes of Annabeth and Bill. He could try to look to his left, but that would be an obvious bail out. He plastered his best company representative smile on his face and prepared for the inquisition. 

“Oh stop it,” Annabeth said. “We ain’t going to bite you.”

“We could, but I think that’d make all three of us uncomfortable,” Bill said. 

Annabeth whacked her husband’s arm. “You’re going to scare the boy off.”

Bill rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer. “If that boy hasn’t been scared off by now, nothing will do it.”

Annabeth shot Bill a quick glare and then turned back to Andy. “How are things back home? Truly? Don’t you lie to me.”

“How’s that boy of yours?” Bill asked. “Nick?”

“Nate,” Andy corrected. “He’s good. The adoption papers are about to go through, so he’s excited.”

Andy was not expecting for Bill to spit out his beer or for Annabeth to go white. 

“You okay?” Andy asked. 

Bill coughed, nodded, and let Annabeth slap him on the back for a solid minute. He cleared his throat and asked, “You’re adopting?”

“No,” Andy said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you know, a single parent. Nate’s going through with the legal adoption of his future step-daughters. They want that legal barrier cleared before they get married.”

“ _They_?” Annabeth asked. 

Andy nodded. “Yeah, Nate and his future husband, Mike. Mike Wynn. He teaches kindergarten, nice guy, and a great cook. He’s from Texas, but no one’s perfect,” he joked. 

Annabeth and Bill exchanged a look. Bill shook his head and Annabeth shrugged and they both stared at Andy. 

“What?” he asked. 

“We thought you were dating him,” Annabeth said. 

Andy almost laughed. “I mean, Mike’s an attractive guy, but not my type.” He looked at the baffled faces before him. “Wait—you didn’t mean Mike.” 

They both shook their heads. 

Andy did laugh this time. “Nate is a brother to me. Seriously, I grew up with him. He looks like he’s twenty. On a good day. And he’s a special type of idealistic stubborn. I’d be more likely to date Ron, but I’d like not to be involved in any international diplomacy incidents. I love them both, but not like that. _Never_ like that.” He tried not to shudder. “Why would you think that?”

“Just some misinterpretation,” Annabeth said. She patted his hand. “So, you’re not seeing anyone?”

Andy shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t tried, but it’s difficult. The people I’m most likely to interact with come from the same social circle and half the time I spend a date wondering if they’re even attracted to _me_ or just my name and my family’s reputation. It’s frustrating.” He sighed. “I think that’s why Nate hit it off so well with Mike. Mike’s never heard of the Ficks and he doesn’t care at all about keeping _proper_ company. He just saw Nate at the library and decided he wanted to talk to him.”

“So why not see someone outside that group?” Bill asked. “Boston’s a big city.”

“The family names are known throughout New England,” Andy said. 

Bill laughed. “Seriously?”

“My father’s name is plastered on the building of one of Boston’s top law firms. My mother’s consulting work is internationally known. We’re always in the society pages somewhere. There are blogs in Boston based on _snatching_ one of us single society heirs off the market. I can count on my hand the amount of times I’ve been out on a date and _haven’t_ had an old family friend stop by the table who wasn’t’ a current or former mayor, governor, or secretary of state. The last time I went on a date with someone who had zero idea who I or my family was, he was a hockey player who then got traded to avoid any possible scandal after a picture of us got posted on Instagram. So sometimes it’s just easier to stay in that same network of people.” Andy shrugged. “I just—there are expectations in our family’s social circle. And I feel like I’m failing them.”

Annabeth and Bill both looked at him then with so much love and concern he felt something hard inside him crumble. These people, this family, they just cared and loved so much. 

“There’s this myth we’re all raised on that you’re supposed to have life figured out by the time you’re twenty-five. You’re supposed to be started on the house and the kids and the career,” Bill said. He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “I call it horseshit. Maybe that was so thirty years ago, but the whole world has changed.” 

“What he’s trying to say, if he could ever find his point, is that it’s still okay to ask what you wanna do and who you wanna be when you grow up,” Annabeth said. 

“Thirty-three is pretty much grown,” Andy said.

Annabeth shook her head. “That ain’t nothing. Three decades, sure. How many you got in front of you though, a healthy boy like you?”

“Four, five more, if I’m lucky. Or I could die tomorrow.”

“Or you could’ve died ten years ago,” Annabeth said. She patted his hand and pulled him closer. “You’ve always tried to please everyone, Andy. How about you try to please yourself for once; be a little bit selfish.” She patted his cheek with her other hand. “Get a little reckless.”

“We’ll front the bail money if you need it,” Bill said. “Just try not to break yourself. Annabeth is fond of you for some reason I never could reckon.”

“It’s that strong jawline of his. And he always was a bit of a looker, even covered in mud and bringing home a cat with a half-chewed ear and insisting he could keep it,” she said. 

“Vaughn was a good cat,” Andy said. 

“Even if she _was_ named after a Red Sox,” Bill muttered. He stood up and walked past Andy, resting a huge paw of a hand on his head. “Listen to me, son. You always got a place here. You ever need to escape? You ever feel like you need to get out of that big city? You come here. If you’ve got to keep breaking off little pieces of yourself to fit in up there, then you come back here to glue them back on. You got me?”

Andy nodded. “I got you.”

“Good,” Bill said. “Now, stay here and let Annabeth cuddle you while I go make a call.”

“Do I have a choice?” Andy asked. 

“No,” Annabeth said, pulling Andy close, and pushing his head down to rest on her shoulder.

**********

Andy woke up on Sunday morning to a quiet house. He could feel the stillness in the air and let out a long breath as he stretched his body out. The entire Jones family was probably at church, since every single one of them sang in the choir. He reached over to the bedside table and found a text from Mae telling him she’d gone with the others.

After forcing himself out of bed and into the bathroom he wandered downstairs in search of food. There would be a big feast later, as there always was on Sunday in this household, but he’d need something to tide him over. 

“Holy Hell,” Andy said as he stumbled into the kitchen. A man was there, laughing at him, and Andy wished he really had more on than a pair of his oldest boxers. 

The man had laugh lines deep in his skin, a head full of dusty brown curls, and stubble that was just starting to grey around the edges. He took Andy’s breath away and made his heart race just a bit faster. 

“Eddie,” he said. 

“Hey, Andy,” Eddie said. 

Eddie wore one of his father’s tactical aprons and had a large steel bowl under his arm. He looked good— rested and _happy_ for once. It’d been years since they’d really seen each other for longer than it took to say hello. All those times Andy had to spend the summer at some internship in D.C. or New York. The decade Eddie spent with the Marines. The constant missed connections whenever they traveled through the same parts of the world. Always likes ships passing in the night, the two of them. 

Yet here they were now, finally, and Andy had never felt so unprepared and underdressed in his life. 

He jumped as Beelzebub wormed her way around his ankles, tail swishing as she got her black fur all over him. She meowed, looked up at him, then Eddie, meowed again, and finally leaned down and bit Andy’s foot.

“Son of a bitch,” Andy cursed.

“And here I always thought you were quite fond of Mama,” Eddie said. 

 

“I—uh—didn’t know you were in town,” Andy said. He was desperate to escape the room with at least one single shred of dignity and the chance to put some actual pants on, but it seemed rude to run away now. 

“I’m teaching some kids about music here. Just came back from seeing one of them audition for Julliard. Think she’s got a chance.”

“That’s awesome,” Andy said, even as he silently plotted his revenge on Mae and every single member of the Jones family who had failed to inform him that Eddie was back in town. 

“How long have you been back?” he asked. 

“Oh, only about five months.”

Five months. Five fucking months and no one bothered to say shit to Andy. Oh, there were going to be more than a few angry worded letters in his future. None that he would actually send out, but it would feel damn good to write them. 

“That’s, uh, that’s great,” Andy said. “Nice to see you’ve settled down.” He pointed back to the hallway. “I’m just going to, you know, put some clothes on.”

Eddie turned back to his mixing bowl. “Don’t feel the need to do so on my part. I don’t mind. Not the first time I’ve been around a man in his skivvies.” 

That would be the decade with the Marines and whatever relationships he had during and after of course. Of course Eddie didn’t have the same sort of modesty issues that came naturally to a society descended from the most uptight of Puritans. 

“Right,” Andy said. “Still, I’ll just be, right back.”

“Jam or syrup?” Eddie asked. 

“What?” Andy asked, almost stumbling over his own feet. 

“I’m making pancakes,” Eddie said. “Do you want jam or syrup? Or both?” He smiled at Andy, a soft thing that made Andy’s breath quicken. 

“Syrup,” Andy said before making his escape. 

Beelzebub, Freddie, Mercury, and Balto all chased him up the stairs. Andy waited for them all to march into his bedroom, taking over the bed, before he carefully shut the door. He leaned against and it let out a breath.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. 

Somewhere, for no good reason, Lena was laughing her ass off at him.


	5. Five

Sitting on the back steps and eating a plate of pancakes wasn’t Andy’s usually Sunday morning routine, but the company was definitely a welcome change. All of the Jones’ dogs were gathered around Eddie like his own canine congregation, waiting patiently as he took a bite of his own breakfast, and then threw pieces of bacon or one of the millions of tennis balls by his side for the gathered group. It was a nice, companionable silence, even with all the questions Andy could feel hanging in the air. 

After they had both finished their breakfast, plates brought inside to soak in the sink, and mugs of coffee refilled, Andy followed a quiet Eddie out into the fields. There was an old gazebo back there that Eddie and Heather had made into their version of a treehouse years ago. Andy was happy to see it still stood, now with a fresh coat of paint and comfortable cushions all over the floor. 

“Sammy adopted its upkeep as her own little pet project,” Eddie said. 

Only one of the dogs, a blue-grey short-haired thing with large ears, bright eyes, and a happy grin, followed them inside. Andy had a lap-full of dog before he’d even properly sat down. 

“Yeah, she likes people,” Eddie said. He gestured, “Andy meet Gris, Gris you’ve already met Andy.”

“Gris?” Andy asked as he let her nose at his hand. 

“Griselda,” Eddie said. He laughed at the look on Andy’s face. “Casey named her. She’d just finished _The Canterbury Tales_ when I found her. I thought it was a rat or raccoon or something in the dumpster, and then this little big-eared puppy ended up at my feet in the middle of Hartford. She’s been my girl ever since.”

“She’s beautiful,” Andy said as he carefully moved her out of her lap. “Heavy though.”

“All dogs are lap dogs,” Eddie said. He made a sound under his breath and Gris hurried over to his side, curling up around his legs. 

“I’m pretty sure Gris there could eat my neighbor’s dog,” Andy said. 

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, her breed does kind of go after smaller animals. It’s why I have to keep her with me. The cats are far too tempting. I don’t allow her in the house when I visit.”

“So that’s why you’re not at home?” Andy asked. He shook his head at his own boldness. “I’m sorry. Last I heard you were in Toronto? I think that’s what Annabeth told me.”

“Oh yeah, well, I went from Toronto to Hartford. I was doing some research into Toronto’s music history, helping a friend write a book and they wanted some in-person research. I was only allowed to be there for a few months though before I had to go through the whole work permit bullshit. So after that I headed to Hartford for about three months and picked up a few jobs there while I stayed with one of my old PFCs. Can’t believe that kid’s married now with a kid of his own. I remember him fumbling with grenades and shit and now he has a _baby_?”

Andy couldn’t help but laugh at the incredulous look on Eddie’s face. “They grow up so fast?” he asked. 

Eddie shook his head. “The kid couldn’t even figure out how to properly buckle his cover and now he’s just carrying around this tiny person like it’s no big deal. At least he finally lost the butter fingers. Well, let’s just say I hope so.” He ran a hand through his own hair and suddenly dropped his gaze. “After that I actually stopped by Boston for a hot second. Friend of mine is a homicide detective there. Decided to see what he was up to since he got out.”

Andy tried to ignore the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. “You should have called me. I would’ve given you a tour.”

“I, uh, tried to see you,” Eddie said. “I couldn’t remember your address, but I remembered the law firm. It’s hard to forget with your last name on it and everything.” He looked up then. “I saw you and that lawyer friend of yours dressed to the nines.”

Andy thought of his long list of lawyer friends and laughed. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Nate, I think,” Eddie said. 

Andy wracked his brain for the last time he’d joined Nate at the law firm to attend any one of the boring social functions that came with their status. “When was this?” he asked. 

“Uh, February, right before Valentine’s Day.”

The only thing he’d attended then was the bachelor auction his father forced him into because it was for charity and Nate got a pass on that one. 

Wait.

“Oh god, that was for McKenzie’s recital,” he said with a laugh. “I almost forgot about that. Some girl in her ballet class was giving her shit because of her accent. They’re from Texas, Mike and his daughters, and so Nate asked a bunch of us to attend her dance recital in our best tuxes. Poor Matilda had to carry a bouquet of roses bigger than herself.” Andy looked up into Eddie’s confused face and remembered he didn’t know who any of these people were. “Mike is Nate’s, well, honestly they’re almost married so let’s go with husband. Matilda and McKenzie are Mike’s daughters, so they’re all part of the family now.”

“Oh,” Eddie said. “Sorry, I just thought…you talked about him a lot as a kid. Him and…Ron?”

Andy nodded. “Yeah, they’re my brothers. Ron and Nate both went to work for the law firm.”

“Not you though? Still at your mom’s business, right?”

“Yeah,” Andy said. “It’s not my life’s passion or anything, but I’m good at it and I enjoy it. I have a hell of a good team as well. You’d like them, I think.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked. 

Andy smiled at him. “Yeah. Next time you’re in town, don’t hesitate to stop by. You’re always welcome, Eddie. Always.”

“I’ll remember that,” Eddie said. An alarm went off his phone, causing Gris and then the rest of the dogs to start barking. “Time to get the roast out of the oven.” He looked up at Andy through that mess of curls. “You any better at cooking?”

“Haven’t burned down my own kitchen yet,” Andy said.

“Good,” Eddie said. “I could use an extra set of hands.”

Eddie stood and dusted off his jeans. Gris followed him adoringly back to the house and Andy was worried he had that same exact look on his face. At least no human eyes were there to witness it and Andy was pretty sure he could bribe Shiloh into keeping her muzzle closed.

**********

Monday morning saw Andy wake up in his room at Mae’s house. It really was _his_ room, even if the posters on the wall were from over fifteen years ago. The Red Sox comforter was still soft as hell and it made it difficult to force himself out of bed. It was still dark outside, but he had a lot of accomplish this morning. He walked down the hallway, past Kelley’s old bedroom, now fitted with bunkbeds for her kids, and the original master bedroom, now where Kelly and her husband stayed. The hallway was decorated with pictures of the Murray family going back to the first family to own the farm, a half-ripped black and white photo preserved behind thick pieces of glass. Andy ran his fingers across the edges of them all, remembered when he was too small to reach their bottom edges, and spared a small smile for that kid who just wanted to be tall enough to look at the pictures on his own.

He quietly padded downstairs, surprised at how cold the hardwood of the floor was under his feet. It was still summer outside, the house shouldn’t be this cold. He rubbed his hands over his bare arms as he stood in the kitchen and waited for his coffee to brew. 

“Hey, Andy!” 

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Andy yelled as he jumped and grabbed for his heart. He turned around and glared at Ryan Jones. “What are you doing here?”

“Drove Mae’s car back from the store,” he said. He reached around Andy and grabbed the coffee pot. “I stay here sometimes, remember? Mae doesn’t mind. I converted the old storm room into my own little Ryan Cave.” He tilted his head to the side. “You okay, bro?”

“Fine,” Andy stuttered out as his heartbeat finally evened out. “I’m just going to check on Mae.”

“She’s doing the sponge bath thing right now. She’s really pissed she can’t take a real shower for another week. I offered to wash her hair, but she threw a towel at me. We should just take her to Person’s. They’ll take care of her.”

Andy pretended that any of that made sense. “We need to open the store first.”

“Well, yeah, but it’ll take a couple of hours to get you trained and the least we can do is let Mae get pampered.” Ryan nodded and slurped his coffee. “Yeah, I’ll tell her that’s the plan.” He snapped his fingers. “You might want to hurry it up, bro. Time’s a-wastin’.” 

Andy definitely needed to find out just how many times Ryan had been dropped on his head as a baby. 

He took his coffee back to his room and pulled out his phone. Eddie’s new number was there and Andy didn’t hesitate to send him text, even at the asscrack of dawn.

_Be honest. You dropkicked Ryan multiple times as a baby._

Andy had just finished brushing his teeth when the reply came.

**Well, you’ve met the kid. What do you think?**

**********

Andy didn’t hate modern technology, nor did he hate touch screens, but he did kind of want to take the Murray’s new register system out into the back lot and beat the crap out of it with a baseball bat. In the rare instance it recognized him as human being trying to sign-in, the cursor moved all over the screen and then he spent too long having to slowly drag it back to the numerical pad to get it to work again.

“You’re typing too fast,” Ryan said from where he was helping bag Mr. Foster’s purchases. “Just have some patience and it will no longer sense your anger or frustration.” He leaned closer to Andy’s shoulder and whispered, “It knows if you’re trying to plan its death.”

“Boy’s got a point,” Mr. Foster said. “Take your time learning, son. I only have to stop off at the bank after this.”

“So does he,” Ryan said with a grin at Andy. “Someone’s got to take the deposit in and I’m not leaving you alone in the store.”

“Great,” Andy said and honestly meant it. He would gladly take dropping off the deposit over standing here in front of this hell machine. He finished scanning the last item and smiled. “Okay, total is $198.07.”

Mr. Foster held out a gift card. “I’ll be using whatever’s left on that.”

“Right,” Andy said. It took two tries, but he got the card to go through. “Okay, $165.04.”

Mr. Foster handed him three twenties, a ten, and a five. “I’ll pay the rest on my card.”

“Of course,” Andy said as he flipped back to the cash screen and typed in $75 into the ‘Other Change’ amount. “$90.04.”

“Oh, here’s four pennies,” Mr. Foster said.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Andy said and flipped back to the cash screen to enter the change. “$90 even.” He startled as he almost forgot to flip back to the Debit/Credit/EBT screen. 

Mr. Foster patted Andy’s wrist as he handed him the receipt. “You’re doing just fine, son,” he said. 

Andy waited until Ryan had returned from helping load Mr. Foster’s car before he glared at him. “You totally bribed him to do that to me.”

“Best way to learn is by doing,” Ryan said. “At least he didn’t write a check too.”

Checks would appear later in the day and Andy had never missed Massachusetts issued identification more in his life. It’s not that the license or id number was hard to find, it’s just there was a constant mixture of Pennsylvania and Maryland and Andy ended the first half of his shift with a ridiculous new respect for cashiers these days. 

Most of the customers were understanding. _Most_ asked about Mae and how her recovery was going and asked that their well-wishes were passed on. Some even remembered Andy from when he was a kid. There were a smattering of utterly rude assholes though, but from the evil eye Ryan gave them it was clear they weren’t local. Andy heard one of them say, “quaint” in the way he’d always identified as someone from Greenwich, CT. 

“Don’t worry about those assholes,” Ryan said after the last group walked out, pulling hand sanitizer out of their bags as they walked out onto the street as if something in the store was contagious. “We get some tourists around here because of the old farms and their desire to buy antiques with their own hands instead of from their personal decorators.” He frowned. “I blame all those home improvement shows.”

It was with a grateful sigh of relief that Andy walked down the street to drop off the deposit. Apparently to avoid any recognizable pattern, different employees dropped it off at different times of day. All the names were on an approved list, Andy’s apparently added before he drove down. It was so different from what Andy knew of other businesses with cash deposits, but it wasn’t like there was a company with armored cars to drive the deposits not even half a mile down the street.

First Keystone Bank was in a stone and brick building, about the size of café. Andy couldn’t remember the last time he saw a bank so small. The old wooden door creaked as he opened it and the single teller, an elderly man who probably should’ve been retired, glared at him from behind his glasses. His nametag read _Elmo_ and his frown grew darker the closer Andy got to the counter. 

“Who are you?” Elmo asked. 

“Andy—Andrew—Haldane. I’m here to drop off the deposit for Murray’s.”

Elmo’s frown somehow got darker. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m on the list,” Andy said. He pulled out his license and passport and passed them over. “I’m Mae’s nephew.”

“Don’t remember Robert having a nephew,” Elmo said.

“Other side of the family,” Andy said.

Elmo made a disapproving sound and pulled out a ledger. He spent at least five minutes looking between the ledger, Andy’s face, Andy’s identification and back. 

“How do I know this is really you?” he asked. 

“I--”Andy struggled to hide his incredulity. “I can assure you I am myself, sir.” He pulled out his phone. “I can call Mae if you like. She’ll confirm it for me.”

Elmo shook his head. “Can’t know it’s really her.”

“It’s really him,” Eddie said. He appeared out of nowhere like the hero Andy always thought he was. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you, Elmo.” He threw an arm over Andy’s shoulder. “Andy here can’t help he’s from out of town. You might’ve remembered him from when he was a kid. About a foot and a half smaller and a skinny little shit.”

Elmo narrowed his eyes and grunted. “Still don’t remember him, but if you say it’s him, I’ll believe you." He put Andy’s i.d.s back on the counter. “Deposit and account slip, please.”

Andy quickly handed them over before Elmo changed his mind. After that it took less than five minutes for the deposit to be completed and Andy to have the account receipt in his hand. Elmo held out two mints to Eddie. 

“You boys have a nice day,” he said.

Andy just nodded and let Eddie guide him out of the bank. They were nearly at Murray’s when he finally turned to Eddie.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

Eddie shrugged, rolling his mint around his mouth. “Elmo doesn’t like strangers. He’s perfectly neighborly to those he knows.”

Andy just started laughing, he had no other possible reaction. “What the hell have I gotten myself into,” he murmured.

Eddie knocked shoulders with him. “Small town life. Come on, let me buy us some lunch.”

“I’d love to,” Andy said. “I’m still on the clock though. I think. I’m not sure how the time clock works here. I didn’t clock in so much as fill out a sheet.”

“Have you had lunch yet?” Eddie asked when they reached the door. 

“No,” Andy said.

Eddie nodded and held the door open wide enough to peer around it. “Ry!” he yelled.

“What?” Ryan yelled back.

“I’m kidnapping Andy to feed him!”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days? Kinky, bro!”

“You would know,” Eddie said.

“Truth though,” Ryan said. “Can you drive over to New Barn and pick up Mae from Person’s? Her spa day should be done by then. Just make sure you take the Camry and not the truck.”

Eddie pulled out a huge ring of keys that Andy had no clue how he fit in his tight jean pockets. He flipped through them quick and nodded. 

“Yup, got the key. Want anything from the diner?”

“Fries and a milkshake!”

“Got it,” Eddie said. He shouldered the door close and turned to Andy with a smile. “Shall we?”

“Please tell me there weren’t customers present for that,” Andy said.

“Only Mrs. Guthrie, and she was going to talk shit about us anyway,” Eddie said. “She swears Dad stole her apple bread recipe. Never mind that the woman has never made apple bread once in her life that didn’t have the consistency of rock gravel.”

“Seriously?” Andy asked.

Eddie nodded as he rested one hand on Andy’s lower back and guided him towards the diner. “Family recipes are serious business here. It might not hold the sexy intrigue of what family came off the Mayflower and which didn’t, but entire generations have grown up with a dislike for other families because of the recipe wars.”

“Ah, now I know why the Hatfields and McCoys hated each other. It was all over a recipe.”

“Obviously,” Eddie said. 

The diner would’ve been at home in the 1950s with vinyl booths and an actual soda fountain. Elvis crooned over the speakers and the neon lights on the wall gave in the kind of natural charm most chain restaurants would sacrifice someone’s soul for. 

“The Luz’s bought this place a few years back,” Eddie said after the host led them to a booth. “It used to be part of the old yarn factory. They fixed it up real nice.”

Andy looked around and smiled. “They did a great job. It looks so authentic.”

“I tried to go all _Back to the Future_ with it, but Ma made me show some restraint.” A short man held out his hand. “George Luz, at your service. You’re not from here.”

Andy shook his hand. “Andy Haldane. Nice to meet you.”

“He’s Mae’s nephew,” Eddie explained. 

Luz’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, _that_ Andy.”

Andy was about to ask what that meant when Eddie leaned across the table and gave Luz a hard whack with one of the menus. “Just bring us two lunch specials, jackass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luz said. 

Andy laughed. “ _That_ Andy?” he asked. 

Eddie shrugged. “My family talks about you a ton. Can’t imagine why, what with all that walking on water you do.”

Andy snorted. “Just for that, you can pay for your own lunch.”

Eddie didn’t seem bothered, just grinned at Andy as the music switched over to Buddy Holly and the Crickets. 

“Planned on paying anyway, being that I was the one to take us out and all,” Eddie said. 

Andy could almost pretend it was actually a date, but he knew better. Eddie was just as kind and welcoming as everyone else in his family. 

It was one of the best lunches he’d had in a long time; tasty food, good music, great company, and not one mention of Andy’s collective family fortune

*********

Andy didn’t know what he expected the proprietor of Person’s to look like, but a skinny little fuck with tattoos all over his arm and a knowing smirk that could give Snafu a run for his money was not it.

“Oh, Ray’s a sweetheart,” Mae said as she carefully moved in her walker, hair looking fabulous and fingernails painted a metallic purple shade. “He always takes good care of me.”

“Have to for one of my best clients,” Ray said as he helped Mae out to the car. “You come back any time.” He waited until she was in the car before he turned to Andy. “You the nephew?”

“Yes,” Andy said.

He got a judgmental nod. “Okay, don’t let her hair get like that again. I’ll clean it, free of charge, if she won’t let you do it. Nothing’s worse than having dirty hair when you can’t take a real shower. Don’t let her argue that she doesn’t need it. Kidnap her if you have to, but get her here. How long does she have before the surgery staples are taken care of?”

“We have a doctor’s appointment next week,” Andy said. He’d spent last night making a schedule on his iPad, his phone, and a physical one for the fridge.

“Have her back by Friday at the latest,” Ray ordered. He turned to Eddie and winked. “Nice to see you, Elder Jones.”

“Fuck you, Ray,” Eddie said. He held open the back passenger door for Andy. “We’ll see you.”

“Yeah you will,” Ray said. He pointed to Andy. “I like this one. He’s got the responsible leader shit thing going on.”

“Ray,” Eddie said, a tone in his voice Andy had never heard. 

Ray gave him a mock salute and stood at attention. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

Eddie closed Andy’s door with a glare and went over to the driver’s side before Ray could say anything else.

“I’d like to go back to the store,” Mae said once they were down the road. 

“You should be resting,” Andy said.

“I just had a whole morning of resting, Andy,” Mae said. “I need to move around a bit, get the blood flowing. Even the doctors said I should.”

“As long as you don’t try to go upstairs,” Andy said.

“We did install an elevator,” Mae said. 

Andy didn’t even know why he tried to argue with her. He shook his head in despair and kept his mouth shut. 

“People will want to be seeing you,” Eddie said, speaking up for the first time during the drive. “It’s better if you just stay where they can see you, so you don’t have to move too much. I’d park you near the register if it was me. The boys can bring your laptop out there so you can do the ordering and reply to any phone calls or e-mails.”

Mae smiled. “I like that idea.”

Andy met Eddie’s eyes in the rearview mirror and mouthed a _thank you_. Eddie smiled at him in return and Andy felt something warm in his blood. 

That whole boyhood crush of his? Yeah, it was getting even worse.


	6. Six

Andy thought his first week at Murray’s went relatively well. Then he hit the weekend. 

It was hell. 

It was the ninth level of hell. 

It was a type of special hell that hadn’t even been discovered yet; an uncharted territory of employment and customer service hell. There was just a constant flux of tourists and regulars and then the weekly delivery of Coke products which meant there were entire pallets to be moved around the store room. He’d run up and down the main stairs so many times he never wanted to do a cardio workout ever again. He had cuts on three of his fingers from opening boxes, a black pen had leaked all over his white shirt, and he definitely needed to find the nearest Wal-Mart for some decent shoe inserts until he could find like, a podiatrist or chiropractor or some medical professional to make the pain stop. 

He was just getting ready to relax with a nice beer and a baseball game when his phone rang. He winced when Lewis Nixon’s name flashed on his screen. 

“That’s not a good face,” Mae said. She was knitting some adorable animal-themed hats for one of the youngest Jones’ children and had a lap full of brightly colored yarn. 

“One of my clients,” he said. He left the remote near Mae’s side and grabbed his phone and beer and walked out to the back porch. Hopefully no one could hear the yells out here and there was always, always yelling when a Nixon was involved. 

“Lew,” Andy said, forgoing all greetings. He’d learned to cut the bullshit and pleasantries with the Nixons. The only calm one among the entire bunch was their CFO, Richard Winters. 

“So you’re not dead,” Lew said. “We tried to set up lunch meetings all week and they said you were out of the office.”

Andy could already feel the tension headache forming. “I left multiple messages with the various assistants of your company. I’m on sabbatical for at least six months. I’m handling your company via telecommunications. If there is a meeting that absolutely requires my presence I’ll be there.”

“Backpacking through Europe?” Lew asked. “You seem the type. I’ve done it, a couple times. Good memories, from what I can remember. You’ll have to ask Dick though, he took all the pictures.”

“I’m helping a family member out. I’m in Pennsylvania.”

“Oh? Philly? I know a couple of people in Philly.”

“Fawn Park,” Andy said.

Lew was quiet for a moment. “Where the _hell_ is that?”

“Near the Maryland border,” Andy said. “Is there a problem with the company? You don’t normally call me on a Sunday evening.”

“There’s another divorce on the horizon. Third wife of mine. Hopefully this one won’t take my dog. So, I don’t think that deal with the DuPonts is going to go through, since she’s vaguely related to their CEO.”

“I’m sure they won’t let personal relationships get in the way of a good business deal,” Andy said. At least he’d call during business hours to find a way to spin this into a positive. “Are you worried about bad press?”

He heard the clink of a glass on a table in the background. “Shouldn’t be. I’ve been good this time. Just didn’t work out. I wasn’t emotionally available. I was away too often.”

Andy tried not to sigh. He didn’t even know Lewis Nixon well enough for what he was about to say, but someone had to tell the man. “Word of advice?”

“I’ll take it,” Lew said.

“Stop trying to marry for a good business deal. Next time maybe try for someone you actually _want_ to marry rather than someone who just looks good on paper. Or find someone who looks good on paper, but who you also _want_ to be around. Stop making yourself and your partners miserable. Besides, you’ll save the company money with the lawyers not needing to continually draw up pre-nups and divorce papers every three years.”

“That’s good advice,” Lew said. “Don’t know if Nixon the Elder will let me follow it, and Mother certainly has opinions over the right woman to marry.”

“Person,” Andy corrected. 

“Can you imagine the scandal?” Lew asked. 

“I’m already imagining the scandals when pictures of your various back-alley hook-ups finally leak,” Andy said. He’d already worked with the PR firm for all the required spin. 

Lew laughed, a sad thing nearly a sob. “You know what I like about you, Haldane? You have no problem calling anyone on their shit. It shouldn’t work. Men like you, in your jobs, you’re supposed to be fawning asskissers. Not you. Not your team. It’s why we keep you around.”

“Telling you what you want to hear defeats the entire purpose of a consulting firm when your business is involved in constant fuck-ups,” Andy said. “If you truly wanted my professional opinion on that.”

“Fawn Park,” Lew said. “I might have to come down and visit you.”

“I’ll be sure to restock the liquor cabinet,” Andy said. 

He let Lew laugh for a few minutes and then interrupted him. “Lew, it’s going to be fine. We’ll take care of it. You should put the vodka away, drink some water, and go to bed.”

“I should,” Lew agreed. 

“But you won’t,” Andy said.

“Can’t break a promise if I don’t ever make it,” Lew said. “Nice talking to you, Haldane.”

He’d hung up before Andy even had a chance to say goodbye. Andy quickly sent a text to Winters. 

_If you’re not already on your way to Lew’s, you should be._

It was a good ten minutes, wherein Andy paced the back yard, until he got an answer. 

**Just pulled into the driveway.**

“You okay?”

Andy whirled around to find Eddie leaning against the doorjamb, bathed in the light from the kitchen. He was in a faded t-shirt and worn jeans, his face full of concern. 

“Didn’t know you were there,” Andy said. “Didn’t even hear the door open.”

“You were kind of in your own world,” Eddie said. He walked over to Andy and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t look well.”

“It’s nothing,” Andy said with a shake of his head. “Just a client going through some things. I’m worried, but he’s got a great best friend that I know will watch out for him.”

Eddie smiled. “I didn’t realize your firm offered personal life consultation as well.”

Andy shrugged. “I’ve got a couple soft spots. Especially when it’s someone I can see myself in, if my parents cared more about social climbing and reputations rather than my own happiness. It couldn’t have been easy, growing up like that.”

“You’re a good man, Andrew Haldane,” Eddie said. He tilted his head towards the house. “Come on inside. We brought some leftovers. Sam made the macaroni salad this week and it’s pretty damn good.”

Andy wrinkled his nose. “That’s a lot of mayonnaise.”

Eddie looked him over and smirked. “I think you can handle it.”

“You trying to say I’m scrawny?” Andy asked. 

Eddie shook his head as he held open the back door. “The exact opposite. Now, get your ass inside. Food’s getting cold.”

**********

Eddie’s apartment was in an old motel turned into an apartment complex. It still felt like a place for people passing through; nothing felt permanent here among the painted peach walls, and standard motel room art. The only part of the room that showed any bit of Eddie’s personality was his luggage and Gris’ dog bed.

“I don’t spend a lot of time here,” Eddie admitted. 

Andy looked at the stack of unopened moving boxes, the single chair and table that served as living room furniture, and the nearly empty kitchen. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t look very homey.” He pointed to the rattling air conditioning unit under the window. “At least you get to control your own room temperature. And there’s a pool.”

Eddie frowned. “I’m pretty sure that water’s contaminated; I’ve never seen anyone in there.” He shrugged as he looked around the room. “It serves its purpose though. I just needed a place to bed down.”

Andy sat on the single chair and scratched behind Gris’ ears as he watched Eddie dig through the closet. Apparently there was some after-church festival today and Eddie had been roped in to playing some live music. He’d swung by the store and asked Andy if he wanted to come along and since Andy’s shift had ended, he saw no reason not to go. 

Besides, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Eddie perform. 

“Found it,” Eddie said. He’d pulled out a well-worn guitar case, covered in stickers and sharpie drawings. “Don’t play the old girl much anymore, but this is a bit of a homecoming. I think her newer siblings won’t mind if I take her out for a spin.”

Andy almost laughed. “Guitars have feelings?” he asked.

“Shh,” Eddie said, carefully cradling the case to his chest. “She’ll hear you. Of course, guitars have feeling. How else do you think we make them sing like that?” He pointed to two other guitars in the corner, the clean and slick cases obvious more recent purchases. “Can you grab those? Hannah and Sam are going to play with me. We’re trying to get Casey to sing.”

Andy had received more than one panicked call from Casey on early Sunday mornings through the years when she’d been given a solo in the choir. He’d only heard her sing through recordings from Annabeth’s phone, but even Andy could recognize the natural talent there. 

“She’ll probably be more relaxed with all of you around her,” Andy said.

“Maybe,” Eddie said as he locked up behind them. “I’ve just missed so much of their childhoods, only home for those handful of months. Sometimes I feel like a stranger in that house, not understanding all the memories and inside jokes, even among my own family.” He looked down at the guitar in his hands. “We’ve always had music though.”

“They love you, Eddie,” Andy said. He carefully rested the guitars against the wall and gripped Eddie’s shoulders tight enough until Eddie raised his head and met Andy’s eyes. “You’re not some interloper. They love when you’re there. Casey nearly blew out one of my eardrums once, calling me in the middle of the night when she was six, just to let me know you were coming home for Christmas.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, a grin finally slipping back on his face.

“Yes,” Andy said, putting as much conviction in his voice as he could manage. “So, let’s get to that festival so the entire town can once again be jealous over the natural talent of the Jones family.”

“We are pretty amazing,” Eddie said. 

“You are,” Andy agreed. 

The large empty lot next to the church was full of people when they got there. Rickety card tables were loaded down with food and drink, someone had set up a chess game on one and a checkers game on another, a few charcoal grills had been pulled out like it was a tail-gate. And then there was the small stage, already full of a handful of Joneses with cords and microphones and amps all over. 

“I think they’re ready for you,” Andy said. He exchanged the guitars he held with Eddie for Gris’ leash. “Try not to make too many of the old ladies swoon.”

Eddie laughed. “I’ll do my best to keep my Elvis impersonation locked away.” He cocked his head to the side. “You going keep your eyes on me like always?”

Andy almost laughed. “When have I ever _not_ paid attention while you performed?” He adopted his best haughty hipster tone. “I _was_ your first non-family member fan.”

He ignored Eddie’s laugh to find Mae in the crowd. She’d claimed a lawn chair and had two plates of funnel cake in her hands. 

“Shut up,” Andy said as he sat down next to her. He didn’t dare look at the smirk on her face, and kept his gaze locked on the stage. 

Casey started to sing, a deep, full voice that shouldn’t have been able to come out of someone that young or that small filled the air. Eddie, Sammy, and Hannah played behind her as she sang some old hymns and some bluegrass songs passed down from Annabeth’s side of the family, the music and the history of Appalachia in the lyrics. The songs weren’t necessarily happy, but they were all beautiful. 

“You should be up there,” Andy said to Mae as Hannah’s fingers flew across the fiddle.

“Who do you think taught that girl?” Mae asked. “I _am_ up there.”

Casey took a small bow after she finished her last song. “I need to give my voice a rest. You folks want to hear Eddie sing?”

The crowd shouted in the affirmative, Mae one of the loudest. 

“Why?” Andy asked her.

She shrugged. “It’s good for you both.”

When the harmonica came out Andy thought Eddie was going for Bob Dylan. When he started singing the rapid fire lyrics of his first song choice, Andy almost lost it.

“Is he?” he asked Mae. 

“He sure is,” Mae said.

Only Eddie Jones could get away with singing _Ain’t Goin’ Down (‘Til the Sun Comes Up)_ in a church’s parking lot on a Sunday.

**********

Andy’s second and third weeks at Murray’s went relatively smooth, minus one hiccup when the register went down and another when a storm knocked out the power for two hours. Even with those problems, Andy felt like he was settling in and could handle anything the store could throw at him.

That was until he encountered York County’s Antiquing Adventure Week. 

“Who the hell decided this was a good idea?” Andy asked. He was on his first break of the day, six hours into his shift. He’d never been so tired and hungry in his life and, because he was covering half of Casey’s shift, he had another four hours to go. 

“We don’t even really notice it,” Mary, one of the part-timers, said. “I do wonder why they always come here, though. It’s not like we have any antiques.”

“It’s the aesthetic,” Ryan said through a mouth full of what passed for pizza in Fawn Park. 

“Oh wow, he _does_ have a culinary snob face,” Mary said.

Andy looked up from his plate of fake cheese and what tasted like watery Ragu in place of real pizza sauce. “What?” he asked.

“You get really judgey over pizza,” Ryan said. “It’s your whole ‘I grew up eating Italian food from the North End’ face.”

“I mean, there is real pizza there,” Andy said. “Not _this_.”

“City boy is too good for Old Tony’s Pizza,” Ryan said. “We’ll get you some Pizza Hut the next time we’re near the city.”

“That’s still not--”Andy stopped himself. It would be better than what he was trying to choke down now. “Yeah, thanks, that would be nice.”

Fifteen minutes later he had his polite smile back on his face and was trying not to rip into a group of tourists from Philadelphia who kept messing with the Bill Jones Baked Goods counter. 

“What even is this?” the mother asked. 

“Apple bread,” Andy said. “It’s quite good.”

She sniffed. “I don’t know if I trust something only protected by saran wrap. It’s so amateur.”

Andy kept the smile firm on his face. “Well, that is the difference between locally made artisan products versus mass produced baked goods. They do use boxes for their farmer’s market stands, but since the breads and muffins are made and delivered daily here, I believe the packaging serves well. We never have left overs, they’re so popular.”

“Really?” she asked. She grabbed another loaf. “I’ll take two then.” 

“Of course,” Andy said as he rang up her purchase. 

She wasn’t even out of the store before she took a picture of the Murray’s logo bag in her hand.

“How did you do that?” Ryan asked. 

Andy let the fake smile drop off his face. “Cost of doing business, kiddo. You’re lucky here. People know you and don’t expect you to be anything else. It’s different when you’re in most other customer service type jobs. Everyone forgets about what emotional labor does to the employee. I’m lucky in that I’m paid extremely well in order to deal with horrible egos and bullshit. Most people aren’t.”

Ryan gave him an extremely skeptical look. “You just convinced her to buy two loaves when she wasn’t even planning on one.”

“It’s also about the buzz words,” Andy admitted. “Surely you’ve looked at the social media accounts Hannah runs for the store. She knows to use terms like _made local_ and _artisan_ and _organic certified_ to cater to the people who shop for items just based on their buzz words alone. Right here? It’s just making a sales pitch in person to someone who will probably never come back, but _can_ earn likes on their Instagram post about visiting some small country town and trying out local food made by a farmer. They’ll win Aesthetic Bingo.” 

“Wow,” Mary said. “I kind of want to marry him right now.”

“Take a number,” Ryan said. 

Andy winked at them both before running upstairs to grab a nice, cold drink and another ten minutes off his feet.

**********

Andy collapsed into bed that night. His entire body ached from a long day of lifting and sorting boxes, helping load any purchases into the cars of little old ladies, and grandpas, and anyone who looked like they needed help. And then there was that antiquing group, who came in an actual bus, and bought up nearly their entire stock of store-brand merchandise. He felt compelled to load their bags onto the bus just out of general gratitude for the grand they spent in one go.

Andy wasn’t out of shape, but lifting weights at the gym didn’t account for the back strain of standing at a register for hours on end and just how heavy multipacks of water were when you had to load an entire pallet into the stock room. 

He had never, in his entire employed life, been so glad to lie down. 

“It’s like you’ve never even had a real job,” Ryan said as he leaned against the door jamb, obnoxiously eating a bag of popcorn and looking for too rested after a ten-hour shift.

“I’ve been working since I was fifteen,” Andy said.

“Right, but in, like offices and shit with air conditioning and water coolers,” Ryan said. “Manual labor doesn’t look like your thing.”

Andy raised his head up to glare at him and dropped it back down when Ryan started laughing. 

“I’m just saying. Corporate America’s idea of a hard day’s work is different from those of us in the retail trenches.”

“The store is independently owned,” Andy said.

“And yet your ass still stuck to that ‘if there’s time to lean, there’s time to clean’ bullshit.” Ryan took another mouthful of popcorn and gave Andy a look. “You need to relax. I’m calling my brother.”

“No!” Andy yelled at Ryan. It was too late, he’d already disappeared in a cloud of smug indifference and buttery popcorn scent. 

He laid back down and wondered how long it would take to smother himself with one of Mae’s quilts.

Two hours later something pelted Andy’s bedroom window. He put down his book, leaving Sam Vimes to the City Watch, and walked over to the window just for something else to pelt it again. He looked outside but didn’t see any rain or hail. There was another hit and Andy finally opened the window and leaned outside.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to look down?” Eddie asked. He stood at the edge of the lawn and shook a handful of loose pebbles in his hand.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to use a phone?” Andy asked. 

Eddie gave him that grin, the one that had always made Andy’s heart beat a little faster, and shrugged. 

“Humor me,” he said. 

“I’ll be right down,” Andy said. 

He closed the window and let himself have a moment just to take a breath and remind himself that this wasn’t a date. It was just old friends meeting up to share a beer or something. It was just Eddie doing a favor for his little brother. It didn’t mean anything more. 

Hopefully Eddie wouldn’t mind that he still smelled like Icy-Hot. 

Andy pulled on a pair of jeans and grabbed his keys, phone, and wallet. Ryan was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, fist raised for a bump. 

“Thanks,” Andy said as he passed him. He slipped on his shoes and turned back to Ryan. “If Mae needs anything call me.”

Ryan waved him off. “I got you, bro. Enjoy the night. Try not to throw your back out!”

The last sentence, of course, was yelled just as Andy opened the door. Eddie didn’t even bother to pretend like he hadn’t heard, doubled over and laughing as he leaned against his restored 1955 Mustang. 

“I hate your entire family,” Andy told the Jones brothers. 

“You sure don’t,” Ryan said as he closed the door behind Andy.

“Nice car,” Andy said, choosing to ignore everything that had just happened. 

“Not the most practical for country roads,” Eddie admitted. “But it’s perfect for where we’re going.”

“And that is?” Andy asked. 

Eddie opened the passenger side door and gestured for Andy to sit down. “Get in and we’ll find out.”

Andy couldn’t believe how dark the roads were out here. Even with the bright stars and moon, the only other light came from the car, the very rare street light, and the occasional porch light. It was peaceful—kind of eerie—but peaceful. 

“I’m not going to drive us off into a ditch,” Eddie said. 

“I know,” Andy said. “I didn’t think you would.”

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Eddie said. 

“Just thinking,” Andy said. He turned to find Eddie’s face illuminated by the green light of the dash, the stereo system one of the few modern updates Andy could see in the car. “So, traveling music teacher? That’s an interesting job. What are the kids learning these days?”

“Lots of _Hamilton_ ,” Eddie said. “Some _Bandstand_ ; instrumental covers of Harry Styles’ songs. I had one kid cover Kesha’s new song; that was pretty amazing. I can’t wait until she hits the Beauty Pageant scene with that for the talent section. The classics remain the classics. I got to introduce one kid to Santana, which was awesome. And another to Darius Rucker, well Hootie in general. So sad the kids these days don’t remember Hootie.”

“Truly a travesty,” Andy said, trying his hardest not to laugh.

“Hey, fuck you. That first Hootie & the Blowfish album was gold.” Eddie continued driving down the dark, narrow roads with absolute confidence. “It’s nice, though. I like teaching, and its private lessons so I get to set my own hours and curriculum. I like being able to work one-on-one; I think I’m better at it than classroom teaching. The few times I’ve done that I just—I don’t know, Andy. I feel guilty because I can’t give each kid the amount of time they deserve. They just cram so many of them in one classroom, usually only once—maybe twice—a week. The instruments are old, the sheet music even older, and it always killed me that I could see so much potential in some of those kids and know nothing would ever come from it.”

“Sometimes it just takes that one little thought planted in their minds,” Andy said.

Eddie shook his head. “I always hope so, but we all know making music is a pipe dream and a struggle no matter how you look at it. Even if you’re considered successful it’s just constant work and sacrificing so much of yourself for just the chance to have one song try to make it in the millions of songs released each year around the world.” 

“ _We are the music makers and the dreamers of dreams_ ,” Andy quoted. 

Eddie sighed. “Okay, company man. What would you have been if you were never forced to choose between your parents’ firms?”

“A teacher,” Andy admitted. “I always liked history. Maybe could’ve been a high school football coach. Or a librarian. I always spent hours in the library at school.”

“Willingly?” Eddie asked. 

“Yeah,” Andy said. “I just always felt safe there.”

“Instead you’re a high level executive,” Eddie said. “You really like it? And your life there?”

“There’s some bullshit to deal with,” Andy admitted. “I know I’d have that anywhere. I really do like my work, and I only have myself to blame for not taking more time off. I have a great team. I love my condo. It’s a lot of empty space for just me, but hopefully that’ll change one day. I have a great support network there too, people who don’t expect me to be anything other than Andy, and who have no problem with busting my balls when I need it. They keep me grounded.”

Eddie was quiet as they turned onto the highway, the lights suddenly more common and the first sign of other cars finally passing them on the road. 

“I’m glad,” Eddie said. “My folks worry about you. Always have.”

“You’re so lucky to have them,” Andy said. 

“I know,” Eddie said. “I know I’m so damn lucky for them.” He quickly glanced at Andy before looking back to the road. “For all of my family.”

Nearly an hour later, Eddie finally pulled into their destination. 

“A drive-in?” Andy asked. “Seriously? They still have these?”

“It’s an auction lot during the week, but they do double features Friday through Sunday and we’re just in time for the second feature.” 

“Oh? What’s showing?” Andy turned his head to see the billboard marquee. “ _Dirty Dancing_?”

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner, Andy,” Eddie said as he drove through the gate and pulled up next to one of the speakers. “Come on, you’ll have the time of your life.”

Andy narrowed his eyes at Eddie. “If I knew how the hell to get home I’d run out of this car right now.”

Eddie tugged him back into his seat. “Come on, I’ll even buy you a popcorn.” 

Andy laughed. “You’re lucky I’m a cheap date.”

Eddie winked at him as he slid out of the car. “Try not to get kidnapped by those old ladies in the next car over. They’re already waving at you.”

Andy just settled back in the car, took out his phone, and took a picture of the screen before him. 

_At an actual drive-in right now,_ he texted Lena with the photo.

**Better make sure that boy of yours still respects you in the morning. Only let him get to second base. No paradise by the dashboard light for you.**

_Fuck you. I’m going to be humming that all night._

**Good. Maybe he’ll finally get the hint.**

Andy _hated_ her in the way he only could for someone he loved so very much.

**********

Mae was on the porch when Andy came home. She nearly gave him a heart attack and he wasn’t proud of just how long it took him to catch his breath.

“Are you sitting out here in the dark?” he asked, once he didn’t feel like he was about to die.

“Are you sneaking into the house after midnight on a school night?” Mae asked. She put her Kindle on a side table. “Been a long time since I had to wait for one of my kids to get back from a date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Andy said. He sat in the rocker next to Mae and tapped her good foot with his own. “It was just a movie.”

Mae’s snort of disbelief was extra loud in the quiet night. “Not a date my ass.” She patted his cheek. “You cannot believe that, Andrew. I know you’re more intelligent than that.”

Andy had long ago learned to protect himself from disappointment by not getting his hopes up. It came with the territory, growing up a single child of extremely busy parents. He’d learned the hard way that special family weekends would be canceled for big cases and that holiday breaks would be interrupted by work emergencies. 

“Andy,” Mae said. 

“It’s easier for me this way,” he said. “I’m not here forever, Mae. And if all he wants is someone to hang out with for the summer, I’ll take it.”

Mae’s sigh was full of all the sadness Andy wouldn’t let himself feel after such an enjoyable night. 

“Come over here so I can hug you,” she ordered. 

Andy laughed as he obeyed, feeling all sorts of warmth seep back into his soul.

**********

Aunt Mae had her staples removed and could, carefully, take actual showers on her own now. She’d also had her first outpatient physical therapy appointment, and while Dr. Reyes was a perfectly nice man, he was just a little too enthusiastic for Andy to handle that early in the morning without coffee. Luckily, Ryan really liked Dr. Reyes. Andy kept wondering how much of that was just Ryan being friendly or Ryan having a crush on a man who was built like a brick shithouse and could absolutely bench press the both of them without breaking a sweat.

Mae loved Dr. Reyes already—and that was the most important part. 

The physical therapy appointment saw them in need of an adventure. While Mae was generally fit for her age, she didn’t exactly have a supply of resistance bands and exercise balls and foam mats and wedges in her house for her at-home exercises. She also need an entire set of weights for water exercise, since Dr. Reyes had pressed upon all of them how much better water exercise would be for Mae. They also needed to increase their stock of heating pads, ice packs, and Andy wanted to see if he could find a decent TENS unit for the house, if not for Mae’s hip, then definitely for his back. 

All that meant that they needed to go to Walmart, which required a half-hour drive to Shrewsbury. When they got there, Andy, Mae, and Ryan in one car, Casey, Sammy, Hannah, and Eddie in the other, Andy's jaw dropped at the sheer size of the building. It was easily the size of a small mall on its own. 

“Can we go to GameStop?” Ryan asked as everyone got out of their cars. He already had Mae’s walker unfolded and the most innocent look on his face. 

“Sure,” Andy said.

“That just made the trip an hour longer,” Eddie said.

“Can we got to Chick-fil-a for lunch? They may be assholes with their evil jesus chicken, but it’s damn good. And waffle fries,” Hannah said. 

Sammy nodded. “Please? I’m so fucking tired of Dairy Queen.”

“Watch your fucking language,” Eddie said with a grin. “We’ll go after we’re done here and while Ryan drops his entire paycheck in GameStop.”

Mae just shook her head. “It’s not like you kids can’t drive up here whenever you want.”

“Yeah, but if we only go once every few months it’s like a special treat,” Hannah said. 

Andy tried not to visibly wince at her words. What she didn’t say was that growing up in such a large family made money extremely tight, even with the high profit the farm made. What she didn’t say was that all the Jones income went to the farm, its upkeep, and its employees first and the family second. What she didn’t say was that frivolous spending was a thing largely unheard of for the family and had only grown slightly easier with more siblings moving out over the years and everyone working. 

Andy had never, in his entire life, had to think about his bank account with any worry. 

He bit the inside of his cheek to not say anything here. Mike had explained it to him once, after a disagreement with Nate, how it was an uneasy balance when it came to money—and an uncomfortable conversation nobody wanted to have but needed to in relationships. Nate was loaded, and careful with his investments, and didn’t think twice about buying the girls whatever they wanted or paying for dinner and groceries every single time. There was no way Mike, raising two girls and on a teacher’s salary, could match a quarter of Nate’s income, and Mike never wanted to feel like it was pity or a handout to have Nate pay instead of him. They’d also had a long discussion about not spoiling the girls—that presents had to be earned and the higher-priced gifts were strictly for birthdays, holidays, and graduations. Real graduations, not just from one level of karate to the next. 

Andy had never thought twice about any of those things. He’d always showered the Jones family with gifts when he could. Every time he _tried_ to pay for a meal here, Eddie snatched the bill out of his hand. Whenever he tried to pay full price at the store Ryan insisted he take the employee discount and his ears were _still_ ringing from Bill Jones’ rant when Andy tried to pay for an entire crate of pies to send up to Lena and his team. He’d at least been able to cover the shipping costs on that one. 

So Andy was _trying_ to be understanding here and not step on anyone’s toes or pride, but he was going to buy every last one of them lunch today and no one was going to argue with him about it. He nodded his head to himself at his final decision, figuring it was the least he could go, and locked the car. 

Mae and the kids were already halfway down the parking lot, but Eddie was resting against the back bumper. 

“Don’t,” Eddie said, voice pitched low so only they could hear. 

“What?” Andy asked. 

“We’re good, we’ve always been good,” Eddie said. “We don’t need pity. Or guilt.”

“It’s not,” Andy said. He didn’t want to know _how_ Eddie knew what he was thinking. 

“It is,” Eddie insisted, standing up straight. “Even if it comes from a good place. I’m glad you recognize all the privileges of your upbringing, but we’ve never gone hungry in our house, and we’ve always had a home. That’s a lot more than some people. It’s not just about money.”

“I know,” Andy said. He watched the group heading towards the store, forming their own little honor guard around Mae. “I know that,” he repeated. 

“Good,” Eddie said. “So wipe that look off your face that says you want to buy them every little thing they want and that you feel guilty for being you. You don’t think Ryan realized within your first week here that you’ve been stuffing fifties in the store tip jar? You don’t think my parents couldn’t figure out who the mysterious donor is who drops thousands of dollars on the farm every single year in the name of charity? That Melissa got a grant based off a phone call from one of the provost’s old New England pals?”

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t need to take care of us, Andy. We’re not a charity case.” 

Andy didn’t ever want to have this argument. It was one of those things he was raised with: _never_ talk about money. But this was something different, and he couldn’t let it go unsaid. 

“You’re family,” Andy said. “Not once has one of you ever asked, or would ask, anything of me, despite the fact that your family has been so generous to mine over the years. We could never, ever repay that even if we tried. If I ever gave your mother a type of monetary exchange for anything she’d slap me so hard she’d realign my jaw. Hell, Eddie, your father nearly did when I went to him for a legitimate business transaction.”

Eddie nodded in agreement. 

“I’m rich,” Andy said. “I’ve got no one else to spend any of it on. I not only make a hell of a good salary, I’m an heir to family fortunes on both sides and have the kind of investment portfolios people have actually killed over. I can’t change that or apologize for it. A charitable donation to the farm once a year? That’s my mother. Melissa’s grant? My father. The tip jar? Totally me. I’ll take the blame on that one.”

“You don’t need to take care of us,” Eddie insisted. “We don’t--” He stopped, clearly frustrated. “You’re not a bank account to us, Andy. We don’t care about that shit.”

“Well, thanks,” Andy said. “I appreciate that. But I have a ridiculous amount of disposable income, and since I’m pretty good, I’m going to spend it where I want. So I save my big gifts for holidays and birthdays. Casey’s getting a new Kindle for Christmas. Sam’s getting new riding boots for her competitions. I’ve had a Kate Spade purse of Hannah ever since Lena found one on sale at Macy’s three months ago. And Ryan’s getting a new computer for his gaming that both Mae and I are paying for, and you’re just going to have to fucking deal with it.”

He dropped his eyes, unable to look at Eddie, and shrugged. “I love those kids and I love your family like they’re my own and what the hell else am I going to do with my money, Eddie? So if I want to spoil them I will and you’re just going to have to get over yourself. It’s not pity; it’s not charity, it’s something I _want_ to and will do.” 

He looked up to find Eddie’s eyes wide and tried not to reach out and poke him where he stood frozen. 

“Okay?” he asked. “I mean, honestly, Eddie what the hell are they going to go after in a Walmart? A new tv? You don’t need one. And if Hannah wants a crappy pair of new shoes that are going to fall apart in three months, then hell I’ll throw down—what—thirty bucks at most?" 

His tirade was stopped by the sudden feeling of Eddie’s lips on his own. Andy’s hands grabbed on to the sleeves of Eddie’s shirt, bunching the fabric under his fingers until his surprise faded enough for him to slide them around Eddie’s neck. 

Eddie pulled back suddenly. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry—I shouldn’t have—that was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Andy laughed. “Not in a Walmart parking lot with half your siblings taking pictures of us, no.” 

Eddie turned and his head dropped as the kids and Mae waved at them. Then his phone started vibrating in his jeans pocket. 

“How much you want to bet that’s your mom?” Andy asked. 

“Jesus,” Eddie muttered. He pulled his phone out with one hand, but his other stayed on the back of Andy’s neck, resting there soft and familiar. “Mama,” Eddie said as he answered. 

“Edward Allison Jones you did not just kiss that boy in a parking lot without talking to him first,” Annabeth yelled through the phone. “I raised you better than that. I hope he kicks you in the balls." 

“Mama,” Eddie pleaded, face going red. 

“Don’t you ‘Mama’ me, Eddie. You need to treat that boy right. You take him out on a proper date. You talk to him rather than assuming he’s shacking up with some lawyer and you ask him nicely before you invade his personal space like that.” 

“I’m really fine with it, Annabeth,” Andy said. 

“No, you’ll be properly wooed like you deserved,” Annabeth said. “Honestly, you two. Get your hands off each other and get in that store. Mae doesn’t deserve to be standing out in the sun like that while you two act like fools.” She released a deep sigh that showed just how done she was with the both of them. “Also pick up some Sunkist while you’re there. I’m having a hankering.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Eddie said. He hung up before either one of them could get yelled at more. 

“So,” Andy said as they finally started walking towards the store entrance. “How embarrassed are you right now?” 

Eddie shrugged. “Finally got to kiss you again after almost twenty years. I can take the embarrassment.” 

“Could’ve done it fifteen years ago, easily,” Andy said. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “But I kind of like who we both are now. Maybe back then, pulled so far in so many different places, me fighting an actual war and you getting all smart and shit, maybe we wouldn’t have muddled through. We’re older now, apparently not any damn wiser, but I think we can be good at this. Assuming you want to try and all.” 

Andy pressed a quick kiss to Eddie’s jaw, a little thrill going through him now that he could do so. “I mean, I still want to see your best shot at _wooing_ me, but I’m willing to go for this if you are.” 

Eddie laughed and suddenly the years melted away, and they were those stupid teenagers again, rain drenched and hunched up together under the tin roof of one of the farm’s oldest buildings. 

_I wanna kiss you._

_I will, if you will._

“Yeah,” Eddie said as they passed through the sliding doors of the store. “Yeah, I am." 

“So, that whole drive-in thing _was_ a date,” Andy said. 

Eddie scoffed. “Andy, I’ve been trying to date you since that first Sunday breakfast.” 

“Oh,” Andy said. He’d never felt so discombobulated before in his life standing in front of a row of shopping carts. 

“Dumbass,” Eddie said as he reached out and took Andy’s hand. 

Maybe Mae and Lena were right before, but hell if Andy was going to admit it. 


	7. Seven

Dating—or rather actually going _out_ on dates—had proved to be its own challenge. _Everybody_ in Fawn Park knew Eddie Jones and was over-invested in his love life. Andy knew he’d passed most of the town’s judgment, even Elmo Haney had given him an approving nod when he dropped off the deposit the other day, but it was still too much. It was hard to enjoy a quick meal at the diner with George Luz’s running commentary on their date night or to even take a walk down Main Street without every other shop owner popping out and forcing them into a game of twenty questions. 

So most of their dates involved long drives to the neighboring towns, learning more about each other on the way to their destinations than they would have over any dinner or game of mini-golf or trying to be heard over the noise of an Orioles game. 

They’d had all those dates too, but it was still the drives that Andy remembered most about those nights.

Andy learned that while he was fairly settled with his home and career, Eddie was still restless. He went from a set-out life on the farm to a set-out life in the Marines, and now that he was out of the Corps, and didn’t feel capable of handling the farm, he was struggling to figure out his next move. He loved music and teaching his handful of clients, but it wasn’t something he wanted to do forever. He’d said as much on their first drive, but it was nice to get the longer explanation. 

When Andy had asked if Eddie thought about going back to school the look on his face had been priceless. What had followed had been one of the longest rants Andy had ever heard against higher learning institutions and the ways Distance Ed and Continuing Ed students got shafted. 

Andy loved the other things he’d learned about Eddie too. He’d developed a new love for photography after learning about it from one of his baby Marines. He’d found cooking soothing in a way he never had before he returned home. He had a whole list of places he still wanted to visit. That after getting shot in the shoulder (a fact that almost made Andy crash the damn car—apparently even Annabeth remained ignorant to that injury) Eddie had taken a series of jewelry making classes to improve his hand dexterity. He’d gotten enough to sell some of his products, but again it was something he enjoyed as a hobby. 

On those drives, usually in the fading light of the early evening, it was easier to say so much. There were no worries about certain confessions getting overheard by the passing ears of loving family members or local gossips. They could be more of themselves when it was just the two of them and the open road, rather than trying to fit into the roles expected of them back in Fawn Park. 

So, no, they weren’t typical dates by any means, but Andy wouldn’t trade them for a world.

**********

“You should ask Eddie to move in.”

Those were the words that started a choking fit which almost killed Andy one morning in mid-August. He’d just been sipping his coffee and flipping through the _Wall Street Journal_ when Mae came flying out of left field with that suggestion.

“What?” Andy croaked once his lungs remember how to do their job.

“You should ask Eddie to move into the house,” she repeated. “We have more than enough room here and that murder motel he’s staying at is good for exactly no one. There’s asbestos in those walls, you know. The sheets are probably crawling with bed bugs. And who knows how many bodies have been stuffed between those mattresses?” 

“What?” Andy asked again. 

“And Gris needs a proper place to run around. It’s no good keeping that beautiful dog cooped up in that place. If he won’t move back into the family home--and who can blame him, he’s a grown man--he should move in here.”

“Because that’s better?”

“I’m an old lady on this first floor. I can’t hear what you and your boyfriend do upstairs. Unlike if you were under the same roof as his parents, three of his sisters, and one of his brothers.”

“Ryan’s usually here.”

“The point still stands,” Mae insisted. 

Andy took a sip of his water and tried to convince himself his heart was still racing because of the choking incident.

“You don’t think it’s a little sudden?” he asked. 

Mae snorted. “You’ve been in love with him since you were a teenager. And then you two grew up and became who you are today, and you’re still in love with him now.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not exactly right. You’ve both fallen in love again with the men you really are.” She stole Andy’s paper and flipped it over to another section. “And despite what you keep trying to tell yourself, this is anything but temporary.”

Andy thought about Mae’s words all through the drive to Murray’s, through his shift, and even into lunch with Eddie. It was only when lunch was over, and Andy found a sheriff’s car and a coroner’s vehicle outside the apartments that Andy said something.

“What in the actual fuck?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, voice pitched low and solemn. “They found Mr. Pritchard this morning. He must’ve died in his sleep.”

“Or a demon ate his soul,” Andy muttered to himself. “We need to get you out of this place.”

Eddie shrugged. “I’m good. I’ve been worse places.”

“A man died,” Andy said.

“Happens all the time,” Eddie said.

“Asbestos!” Andy yelled loud enough for the sheriff to hear. “Sorry,” he said with a wave. “Just talking cancer-causing building materials.”

“How do you sweet talk people for a living?” Eddie asked. 

“I’m usually better than this,” Andy said.

Eddie leaned against the car, a long line of smugness and toned muscle, and raised one judgmental eyebrow. “Asbestos?” he asked.

“It’s probably in the walls,” Andy said. “It’s slowly killing you, breathing that shit in. Not to mention the likelihood of bed bugs.”

“I’ve been here six months and there have been no problems.”

“And that could change in a moment’s notice.” 

Another emergency vehicle pulled up and went to an entirely different room. 

“Eddie!” Andy said. “Your apartment building is slowly murdering its tenants. It’s a murder motel.”

“It’s not a--” Eddie stopped as the sheriff and coroner ran out of one room and down to the other where the landlord was already waiting with the EMTs. “That’s not good.”

“Murder motel,” Andy said. 

“Elderly residents,” Eddie argued. “Though I admit, two deaths in one day is a bit of a bad sign.”

“Bad moon rising,” Andy agreed. "The fates are telling you to get the fuck out. Do you want the bugs to spell it on the bathroom mirror for you?"

Eddie put a hand over his eyes and sighed. “Even if I did move out, it’s not like there are an overwhelming amount of housing options for renters.”

Andy was just going to have to ask the question. “Look, I know this is going beyond ludicrous speed, but Mae’s right. You should move in with us.”

Eddie nodded as he sauntered over to Andy. He rested his hands low on Andy’s hips, one of his thumbs always teasing below his waistband. “That _is_ beyond ludicrous speed. You’ve gone straight to plaid.”

“Why do I like you?” Andy asked even as he leaned in closer.

“Because I have a hell of a smile, my ass looks good in jeans, I can cook, and I’m the only one who knows your love for corny movies from the 1980s.” Eddie looked over at the apartments and laughed. “Asbestos?” he asked.

“And bed bugs,” Andy said. “And corpses under the mattresses—possibly. I’m not certain about the last one, but the other two? I believe it.”

Eddie turned back to him. “You serious about this?”

“There’s plenty of room and we’ll be at least twenty minutes closer to Baltimore.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie said. “Want to help me pack after work?”

“Pack what? Your five unpacked cardboard boxes, three guitars, and one suitcase? I think we can do that now.”

“You forgot the mandolin and the banjo,” Eddie said.

“My apologies to the stringed instruments,” Andy said.

***********

On Labor Day weekend Andy got a text that sent an actual chill through his veins.

It had started off as such a nice day, enjoying a late summer barbeque with most of the Jones Clan, Heather and her family visiting from Pittsburgh, grabbing Andy into a hug, shoving a toddler into his arms, and yelling about how she always knew Andy and Eddie would get their shit sorted out. So, not ‘nice’ so much as ‘typical time with the Joneses’ or in this case the Jones-Wyatts, but still a nice, calm afternoon with good food and greater company. 

And then came the text. 

Andy had his hands full of corn-on-the-cob at the time, trying not to let the melted butter get all over his shirt or drip onto Gris, curled up around his feet, so he didn’t think anything of it when Eddie grabbed his phone from where it was vibrating across the top of the picnic table. 

“Burgie?” Eddie asked. “Isn’t that one of your co-workers? The one living in your apartment? Him and Fubar?”

“Snafu,” Andy corrected. “And yeah, they are. Why do you ask?” 

“Well, he just texted you that ‘they’re coming for a visit.’” The phone shook again in Eddie’s hands and his eyebrows rose. “Oh, wow, they’re only about an hour away. Oh, hey, there’s a picture too. Wow. That is one full van.” He turned the phone around to show Andy. 

It was only sheer luck that he didn’t drop his plate. Snaf was behind the wheel, Burgie at his side, with Lena, JP, Manny, and his _mother_ waving from the back seat. 

Andy carefully set his plate down, wiped his fingers on a napkin, and took the phone from Eddie. He allowed himself one deep centering breath before he called Burgie. 

“What the fuck?” he said. 

“Andy,” Burgie greeted. “It wasn’t my idea. Totally your mom. She said if we gave you time to think about it, you’d try to convince us not to come. Or to come in a smaller group. We’re taking advantage of the Labor Day break, so Snaf figured it was better for us to just rent a van and come down. Nate sends his apologies. He flew down to Dallas with Mike and the girls. Ron’s staying in the city with your dad. I don’t know what they’re planning, but I’m going to cling on to any plausible deniability. There was something about golf balls and explosives.”

 

“Someone has to go down the Cape to the Kennedy’s celebration. I wonder what Ron’s going to steal from them,” Andy said. 

“Liberate,” Burgie corrected. “He liberates things and returns them to their proper country of origins. Lena thinks he’s going to go after a Ming Vase. I think it’s going to be a canopic jar. Snaf betting on a collection of Greek coins.”

Andy thought about it as he pushed some baked beans around on his plate. “I’m with you. A canopic jar would be easier to grab and hide and he has that trip to Cairo next month.”

“This is what I’m saying,” Burgie agreed. “So, how lost are we going to get trying to find this place?”

“Pretty damn lost,” Andy said. “Take the exit that leads you to Smith's Farms. I’ll meet you at the entrance gate.” 

He didn’t have to explain the intricacies of small-town and rural country navigation to either Burgie or Snafu. They’d both grown up in the middle of nowhere. 

“See you soon,” Burgie said. “And I’m sorry, it wasn’t my idea.”

“You wouldn’t have won with that crowd,” Andy agreed. “Stay safe, Burgie. Don’t let Snaf get you killed.”

“He’s only made one angry dude drive off the exit ramp while giving us the finger the entire way. I’d say that’s pretty good so far.” 

“For Snaf that’s saint-like,” Andy agreed. 

He said his goodbyes and put his phone down. Eddie had a warm hand on Andy’s thigh, a wall of comfort and concern next to him. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

Andy nodded. “I mean, I would’ve suspected Snaf and Burgie for a surprise visit. The others are okay, but my mom? She never leaves New England for personal reasons unless it's to fly to Europe for a vacation. I don’t—she couldn’t even make it for Uncle Rob’s funeral, you know? Not her fault, honestly, she had a conference where she was the keynote speaker and he took such a bad turn so quickly.” 

He looked over at the screened-in back porch where Mae sat in one of the rocking chairs, little Emma Jones-Wyatt carefully balanced on her good hip, teaching the little girl how to knit. She looked so happy; she’d been recovering so well. 

“I don’t want her to upset Mae.”

Eddie looked confused. “They’re sisters.”

Andy nodded. “They love each other, but I think there’s still a lot of misunderstanding there on both sides. Mom will never completely understand why Mae had to leave, and Mae will never completely understand why Mom never could.”

“And you still want to go back to that?” Eddie asked. “It sounds like hell.”

It was that thing Andy and Eddie kept not talking about, kept avoiding in the quiet moments. What would happen when Andy’s six months were up? Would they try long-distance? Would Eddie move? Would Andy? 

And then there was Andy’s biggest fear. That this was only temporary; a relationship with a very clear expiration date. 

“Hey,” Eddie said, voice low and concerned. His grip tightened on Andy’s thigh. “I’m not liking that frown on your face.”

“I do want to go back,” Andy said. “Yeah there’s an unending amount of bullshit, but I _do_ love it there. It’s home, you know?”

“Okay,” Eddie said with a nod. 

“Yeah,” Andy said, still feeling unsettled about conversations that needed to happen, but that he knew he would keep avoiding until the clock ran down. He just wanted to cling to the good that was _now_ for as long as he could. 

He pushed off the bench and grabbed his plate. “I should go. I don’t want them to wind up in Maryland.”

Eddie followed him, Gris at their heels, into the house and then out to the driveway. 

“Where are you going?” Andy asked. 

Eddie almost glared at him as he pulled open Andy’s passenger side door. “With you, dumbass. When are you going to get it through that beautiful head of yours that you're not in this alone?”

Andy did have anything to say to that as he slid into the driver's seat, but he knew he had a hell of a pleased grin on his face.

***********

Smith's Farms and Orchards was _the_ destination for locals to pick their own fruits and vegetables. In the warmer months people flocked to it to gather their own berries, cherries, and peaches. It made the most money in the late summer and early fall with the apple orchards and the pumpkin patch. There was a new building on site for their own brewery; their homemade cider and hard cider already a hit among the local farmers markets. Even Murray’s sold their products. Andy had met two of the owners— Bob Leckie and a man who only introduced himself as Chuckler—multiple times, but that morning the entire four-man owner group was out to greet their customers.

“Why is Chuckler dressed like a scarecrow?” Andy asked as they pulled up. 

Eddie shrugged. “I’d say he probably lost a bet, but knowing Chuckler he probably did it just for the hell of it.”

“Jones,” a blond haired man greeted them. 

“Smith,” Eddie said with a nod. He turned to a smaller man. “Runner, good to see you too.”

“What brings you to the farm?” Chuckler asked. He frowned at Gris. “Dude, you know we can’t let pets in the apple orchards.”

“We’re just here to meet someone,” Eddie promised. 

Smith was already at the car and making kissy noises at Gris. “She grew up damn gorgeous, Eddie,” he said. 

“She sure did,” Eddie agreed. He gestured to Andy. “Hoosier, Runner, I know you haven’t met Andy yet.”

Runner blinked at him. “Wow, you _do_ have a jawline that could cut glass.”

“Told ya,” Chuckler said. 

Andy was saved any further confusion by the green van that halted to a stop at the end of the road. Lena jumped out first and made a beeline straight for Andy. All he could do was brace himself to catch her. 

“Couldn’t wait?” Andy asked as he pulled her close. 

“Honestly, I just needed to get out of that van,” Lena said. She kissed Andy’s cheek and then turned to the group behind them. “Which one is he?” she asked. “I hope it’s the cute one.”

“Take a number,” Hoosier said. 

Lena scoffed. “Not you, and not the Scarecrow, and not the Yankees fan because Andy would never.”

“Well, he might,” Leckie said, lounging in his Judge jersey. 

“And the other one is too young, so it must be the cute one.” She held her hand out to Eddie. “Lena Riggi-Basilone.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Eddie said, turning the charm up to eleven. “Riggi-Basilone?” he asked. “I knew a Riggi-Basilone in the Corps. Dude was hardcore.”

Andy should’ve known the entire world laughed at him. “His name wasn’t John, was it?” he asked.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Andy pointed to the van. “I hope you two got along, because he’s in that van.”

Eddie turned to Lena. “Morgan and Ramirez with him?”

Lena nodded. “Yup,” she said. 

Eddie laughed. “Well, ain’t that a small world.” He started to walk down the dirt path towards the van, waving at the other occupants in the car. 

Lena watched him go and nodded. “Shows no fear in the face of meeting the parents. Not in the arrogant way, but just the self-assured way. Good job.”

“So glad he meets with your approval,” Andy said.

Lena scoffed. “Oh, we’ll see about that. It’s just a point in his favor right now. We’ll see where he stands at the end of the weekend.” She looked up at Andy and her face softened. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You just look so happy,” she said. “And well rested. It makes you look younger.”

“Thank you, Lena,” he said.

“Another point in his favor,” Lena said. “Finally getting your ass to sit still long enough to rest.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Andy said, repeating the same line from an ancient argument.

“Yeah, but you don’t,” Lena shot back like always. 

They both watched Eddie help his mother out of the van, his arm steady as she descended like a queen dressed in cream and khaki. 

“And a third point in his favor,” Lena said.

**************

Annabeth Jones was not going to rest until she personally made sure that Snafu had gained at least five pounds. In three meals over two days she’d done her level best and showed no signs of stopping.

“Oh, honey, you better have a third helping,” she said at Sunday dinner. She piled Snaf’s plate up before he could say anything. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Snafu said, on his very best manners.

“You call me Annabeth,” she insisted. “Friends of Andy’s are friends of ours.” She waved a finger at Andy. “How did you let this boy get so thin?”

“He’s a bottomless pit,” Andy said. He turned to Burgie to back him up. 

Burgie nodded. “We always order a large pizza just for him.”

Snafu shrugged, digging into his mashed potatoes. “Never could gain weight. Gene’s been trying to do a study on me since we were kids.”

“Well, Annabeth will do her best to change that,” Bill Jones said. He rested his chin on his palm. “Out of curiosity, are you a fan of baked goods?”

“Love me some cake,” Snaf said.

“Excellent,” Bill said. 

Andy knew there were going to be all kinds of baked good care packages in Snafu’s feature. He was almost jealous. 

It was a relief to see how well his friends fit in with the Joneses. The only one who felt a little out of place was his mother, and he knew she was _trying_. She would always stand out though, with her perfect posture, and Ralph Lauren khakis, and her Chanel shoes. It was a relaxed look for her, but he knew that Hannah knew all the labels as she eyed his mother’s outfit and purse, and he knew the others were trying to be on their very best behavior around her. 

“So,” Annabeth said turning to his mother, “how do you like Fawn Park?”

Mae and Andy exchanged a worried look, but Margaret Haldane was always a professional. 

“It’s far more spread out than I remember,” she said. “Of course, I didn’t see much the few times I’ve been down, and that’s only been Mae’s house. The architecture of the buildings on your main street is still gorgeous. I’m so glad the local historical society has seen to their upkeep and restoration. Too often we tear down what can be restored in the belief that new is always better.”

“Miss Bonnie Howell is responsible for that,” Annabeth said. “She’s made it her life mission to make sure the facades at least stay the same. All for the proper upkeep on the inside, but the stonework on the outside must stay.”

“The best way to do it,” Margaret agreed. She looked around the dining room. “Your home is lovely. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been in a place so welcoming.”

Annabeth and Bill both grinned with pride as they proceeded to tell Margaret the history of their home. Margaret let them both talk, relaxing her posture and giving both Mae and Andy a quick smirk.

He’d always be a little in awe of his mother. And he’d always secretly think she was just a bit psychic.

***********

Mae’s house was the fullest it’d ever been in years. Ryan was in his space, Mae in her room, his mother in Kelley’s room, and Andy, Eddie, and Gris in his own. It was nice to have so many people he loved under one roof, even if it meant he couldn’t sleep with the sounds of everyone walking and talking echoing through the house.

Around two in the morning Andy finally gave up on trying to sleep. He slipped out from under Eddie’s arm, made sure not to wake Gris as he stepped over her dog bed, and wandered down stairs. He found his mother in one of the studies, a cup of tea on a side table and a paperback in her hand. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked. She patted the seat beside her. 

Andy took it and stretched his arms out. “Too many little noises at night,” he explained.

“You always were a light sleeper.” She ran her hand through Andy’s hair. “You’re growing it out, I see.”

“I’ll get it cut soon,” he promised. “I just haven’t found the time yet. Mae has a stylist here she likes.”

“That’s good,” she said. “And you’re happy here?”

Andy could’ve laughed at that. “Yeah, yeah I am.” He leaned into his mother’s touch and finally asked the question that had been nagging him since he got Burgie’s text. “Mom?”

“Yes?” she asked. 

“Why are you here?”

She froze, body suddenly stiff and hands pulled into her lap. 

“Mom?” he asked again.

“I just wanted to see,” she said. “If you want to—if you need to stay here, I understand. We’ll work something out with the company. Perhaps we can establish a satellite office here.”

“Mom,” he said, holding her hands to keep her still. “Mom, I am coming back home.”

“You love it here,” she said.

“Yes,” Andy agreed. He wasn’t going to lie to her. “I love Boston too. I love my job and my friends and I enjoy most of our clients. Fawn Park is a nice place to escape to, maybe I’ll retire here one day, but it’s not home. It’s a small town with a population less than that of my high school. If I ever adopt I want to raise kids in Massachusetts.”

“After your childhood? I know it bothers you.”

“I had a great childhood,” Andy said. And it was true, even if some parts of it he disliked. “I won’t send them to boarding school, but I want them to have the education and employment opportunities offered by the Greater Boston area. I want them to attend Red Sox games, and stroll through Salem, and have one Plimoth Plantation visit. I want them to walk through the public library and the public gardens. I want them to see the symphony at the hatch shell and eat some Mike’s pastry, and chow down on some fried dough. I want them to spend hours in a Newbury Comics and play in the Science Museum and discover parts of the city I still haven’t found yet. So, I’m coming home. Not for a few more months yet, but I _will_ be back in my condo and that office and there for family dinners and all the asinine fundraisers.”

“What about Eddie?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” Andy admitted, his voice breaking. “We haven’t talked about it yet.”

Her eyes, already filled with tears, went even softer. “Oh, Andy.” She gathered him close, hugged him tight, and patted his back. “It’ll be okay. It’ll work out in the end.”

Andy held on to her that much tighter, wishing everything she said was true.

**********

The last day of the visit came sooner than Andy expected. Lena and the boys were all taking home containers of food, shoved in any empty corner of the over packed van. Snafu had actually reached the point of too-full-to-move and was already curled up asleep in the passenger seat. Burgie had control of everything now and was already trying to usher everyone away from all of the canine members of the Jones family.

“There’s just so many of them,” John said. 

“Don’t you dare try to smuggle one under JP’s shirt,” Lena said.

“Like anything else would fit under there,” Manny joked and then ran into the van to dodge JP’s fists.

Andy turned to Burgie. “You sure you don’t want to stay?”

Burgie’s sigh easily lasted two minutes. “I hate being the most responsible one.” He looked to the porch. “You think your mom would let me tag along on her flight back?”

Andy shrugged. “Only if you want to tag along to her meeting in D.C.”

Burgie shuddered. “Politicians. I’ll pass. She willingly goes to dinner with those people.”

Andy laughed. “You know Nate’s going to start moving in political circles in about five years. You better get used to the fundraisers now, Burgie.”

Burgie made a face. “Can’t I just be an anonymous donor?”

“Depends,” Andy said. “Do you want to live with Nate’s disappointed face?”

“There’s no winning this one,” Burgie said. “I’m going to get in the car.”

“Resign yourself to your fate,” Andy agreed. 

Lena was the last to get into the van. She pulled Andy down into a tight hug. “I get it now,” she said. She pulled back and patted his cheek. “You really do love that entire family.”

“They’re good people,” he said.

“They’re _wonderful_ people,” Lena corrected. She searched his eyes for a moment. “Don’t be an ass about this. Talk to him.”

“I know,” Andy said. 

“I mean it,” Lena said. “You might think that not talking about it now won’t make it hurt so much when it comes time to leave, but you have to remember that he can and will make his own decisions. You’ve got to take that leap, Andy.”

Andy just nodded and hugged her tight again. “Call me when you get home.”

“Love you,” Lena said and slipped into the van. 

Andy didn’t even try to wipe the tears off his face as they drove away.

**********

The next morning Andy was surprised to wake up to an empty bed and a disgruntled Gris scratching at the closed bedroom door. He could barely keep his eyes open, exhausted from a long shift at Murray’s and then a teleconference with a client in Sydney that had gone until three in the morning.

“What?” he asked. He rubbed a hand over his face and laid the other down on Eddie’s side of the bed, surprised to find it was cold. 

He fumbled for his phone and saw it was just after five. It was Andy’s off day and Eddie didn’t have any lessons today. His mother’s flight didn’t leave until tomorrow. There was no reason to be up this early other than Gris, who was growing more impatient by the second. 

Andy slid out of bed, glad he only stumbled once on his way to the door. 

“Release the hounds,” he said to himself and let Gris fly down the stairs in a jumble of excitement. 

He eventually made it downstairs, even managed to pull on something resembling clothes, only to find the way to the kitchen and, more importantly, coffee, blocked by Eddie guarding the door. 

“Why?” Andy asked. 

“You’re always so monosyllabic in the morning,” Eddie said. 

“Coffee,” Andy said.

Eddie held out his own mug. “Your mom and Mae are talking in there, have been for hours. I don’t want anyone to interrupt them.”

“Have they even slept?” Andy asked. 

Eddie shrugged. “I don't think it matters at this point.”

“Okay,” Andy said. “I’m going back to bed and taking this with me.” He cradled the mug close to his chest and stole Eddie’s paper. 

“You never told me you were Mr. July 2016,” Eddie said. 

Andy nearly fell on his ass as his missed the first stair. He turned to Eddie and glared. “Which one of those rotten bastards told you?”

Eddie stood up and pulled out a glossy picture from under his book. There was Andy, bare chested in a pair of black suit pants, with a fluffy Maine Coon in his arms. 

Andy cursed every single one of his treacherous friends. 

“Look,” Andy said. 

“Oh, I am,” Eddie said. 

“Look it was for charity,” Andy said.

“Always is,” Eddie agreed. 

“Ron was supposed to do it with Mr. Jingles.”

“Mr. Jingles?” Eddie asked. 

“Ron’s cat,” Andy said as he pointed to the picture. 

“He named his cat Mr. Jingles?”

“No, Mrs. Collier named her cat Mr. Jingles, but after she passed she left the cat to Ron in her will. So Ron was supposed to do the charity shoot with Mr. Jingles, the whole ‘lawyers of Boston’ charity calendar bullshit, but he had an emergency meeting. So it was either shoot Nate twice or get someone to stand-in for Ron and since Mr. Jingles was already there and so was I, I got guilt tripped into it by animal charity workers.”

“It’s a good look,” Eddie said. “I might’ve made you keep the tie on, but that might’ve been too Chippendales.”

“You think?” Andy asked. 

His eyes strayed from the picture, and there would be hell to pay for letting that surface, to the kitchen door.

“Let them talk,” Eddie said. He hooked his arm around Andy’s own and directed him towards the front door. 

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” Andy said. 

“My parents have extra toothbrushes.” He nudged Andy to a pair of slip-on shoes. “Stay,” he ordered.

“I’m not a dog,” Andy said. He looked down at Gris. “No offense.”

“No, you’re just tired and you tend to wander away when you’re tired and preoccupied. I’m just going to grab Ryan.”

“Shouldn’t we tell them we’re gone?” Andy asked.

“I’ll text them once we’re on the road,” Eddie said.

“You shouldn’t text and drive,” Andy said. He was starting to feel sleepy again, not even the burst of adrenaline from the picture and the caffeine from the coffee could keep him awake now.

Eddie’s lips were warm where they pressed against Andy’s forehead. 

“That’s nice,” Andy said. 

“Jesus, you really are exhausted,” Eddie said. He wrapped an arm around Andy’s waist. “Let’s get you to the car first before you drop.”

“Okay,” Andy agreed. 

Eddie’s laugh was the kind of soft and warm thing that made Andy as warm as any blanket.

**********

Andy never got the chance to ask his mother about her talk with Mae before they had to drive down to the airport in Baltimore. Andy had offered to drive her all the way down to D.C., but his mother had insisted Baltimore was fine.

“Do you even have the proper outfit packed for a meeting on the Hill?” Andy asked.

Margaret Haldane would never call her own child dumb. Her look said it for her.

“Right,” Andy said. “Of course you have a business suit packed even when going on vacation.”

“I learned from all time times I had to rush out and buy some horribly unflattering thing off the rack with no time to get it tailored,” she said. 

“A travesty,” Andy said.

“Andrew, you know very well men of a certain stature can get away with looking sloppy, but women are never, ever allowed to have a hair out of place,” she said. “They’ll attack any and everything about me to try and drown out my voice in this meeting. I won’t let a poor sartorial choice be one of those things. We all don our own kinds of armor.”

And his mother was certainly her own kind of warrior. 

“Sorry,” Andy said. “I’m just tired.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “You should have let Eddie drive me. He was more than willing.”

“I wanted this time with you,” Andy said. 

“That’s all fine and well,” she said. “If only I could believe that was the singular motivation and not a result of you feeling that if you rely on Eddie too much you think he’ll push him away. Because god knows the world’s foundations must be crumbling if any Haldane willingly asks for help.” She leaned over and adjusted one of Andy’s shirt cuffs. “I include myself in that statement, of course. It’s a problem we have in this family, accepting help.”

“It’s not just that,” Andy said, urging himself to keep his hands relaxed on the wheel. 

“No, it’s also because you had a childhood full of disappointment and developed a slight sense of abandonment due to all the times your father and I swore we would come for a visit or take that family trip to Disney World and never did.” She dropped her head from its proud stance for a moment. “I do apologize about that, Andrew. Two workaholics raised a workaholic. It’s why I always wanted you with Mae during those summers. I wanted you to be a regular child while you still could.”

“Thanks,” Andy said. “Just…where is this coming from?”

“You mentioned grandchildren,” Margaret said. “Possible grandchildren. I never dreamed you would actually think about settling down one day, much less planning a family. I didn’t think you wanted any of that, despite how often you dote on Michael and Nathaniel’s girls. And I know _if_ it is to happen, it will be years in the future, but there are issues, your own issues, _our_ own issues that will come up. So I’m doing my best to head them off now.”

Andy could almost laugh. “Always seeing the forest through the trees.”

“I’m a big picture kind of woman,” Margaret agreed. 

“Mom,” he said. “I don’t even know where Eddie and I will be come New Year. You might want to hold back on planning for anything.”

“You need to talk to him,” she said. She waited until they’d been stopped by a line of traffic and tugged on one of his arms until he met her gaze. “Andy, trust me, you need to talk to him.”

“I will,” Andy said.

She sighed. “You keep saying that and you keep avoiding it.” 

“Can’t I just have a little bit more time?” Andy asked.

“Of course you can,” Margaret said. “But if you let the clock run down until the end and don’t bother to tell Eddie how much you _do_ love him and the life you want with him, you’ll be breaking both of your hearts.”

“You don’t know that.”

She patted his cheek. “Oh, but my darling boy, I do.”


	8. Eight

Two weeks after the visit, Andy was in the back office of Murray’s balancing the tills. Mae was out on the floor, back to work part time, and bringing in the customers so fast Andy barely had time to refill the cash drawers. It was near closing time now though, and he’d finally found the time to balance everything out and send the checks through the reader for the online deposit. 

“Got a minute?” Casey stood at the office door, hair a baby blue color, and fingers fidgeting with the string bracelets on her wrists.

“For you, I’ll give a whole thirty,” Andy said. 

Casey smiled, but it didn’t go to her eyes, and Andy felt a pit of worry open in his stomach. 

“Casey?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said too fast to be anything but. 

“Casey,” he said.

“I am,” she said. She sat down in the chair across from him and tapped her fingers on the desk. “It’s just—don’t tell my parents.”

Andy couldn’t make that promise. If it was something serious, he’d have to tell Annabeth at the very least. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“I want to go to school in Boston,” she blurted out. “BU has this amazing linguistics program and I think I could get enough scholarships to scrape up the tuition and I know everyone would help me move, but I don’t know how I can afford the cost of living in a place where I don’t have a home or a job. I know it’s over a year away, but can you just put out feelers for anyone you know and trust who wouldn’t mind an eighteen-year-old hick as a roommate?”

“You’ll live with me and I can help you find a job, though I’m sure you’ll qualify for work-study,” Andy said.

“But what if,” Casey turned her head to look out onto the main floor, where Eddie was helping Mae and Ryan with inventory. 

“I don’t know what’s ahead for me and Eddie,” Andy admitted. “But you’ll always have a place to stay with me. My condo has three bedrooms, you won’t ever be in the way if you’re worried about that.”

“Jesus, Andy, how big is your condo?”

“Big,” Andy said. He held out his hand to Casey. “So, do we have an accord?”

Casey narrowed her eyes. “I’m pretty sure to have an accord I need to offer you something in return.”

Andy almost laughed at her. “Casey, just shake my hand.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to have my lawyer look at any contracts before I sign them.”

Andy sighed. “I knew I never should’ve introduced you to Lena.”

Casey leaned over and shook his hand. “Yeah, that was a bad move, bro.” 

Eddie poked his head around the door. “What are you two doing in here?” he asked. 

“Pirate politics,” Andy said.

Eddie looked between him and Casey. “Pirate politics?” he asked. 

“Pirate politics,” Casey confirmed. “Savvy?” 

Eddie shook his head. “I worry about you two sometimes.” He shook his head. “Nope, that would be all the time. Mae says she’s ready to close the shop for the night. Want to take over the diner?”

“Grease and dairy always win,” Casey said. 

Andy nodded. “Little Liberty speaks the truth.”

**********

One Sunday morning in late September, Andy, Eddie, and Gris were the only ones in the house. Ryan and Mae had gone off to church in a whirlwind of laughter that had woken Andy up long enough to just roll over on to his other side and throw an arm across Eddie’s chest. When he woke again the sun was finally up and Eddie had his kindle in one hand, the other running through Andy’s hair, and his glasses perched on his nose.

“Those so ruin your rugged country boy cred,” Andy said.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed as he read on. “But you like how I look in them and I’m not a fan of eye strain.”

“You do look quite distinguished,” Andy agreed. He snuggled closer to Eddie, reveling in the warmth. “What are you reading?”

“Some romance Heather suggested to me. A president and his secret service agent falling in love. It’s a decent thriller. Hopefully it ends happily. I’ve gotten too old to waste time on edgy endings. Let people be happy, you know?”

“Even if it’s not realistic?” Andy asked.

Eddie’s fingers stilled in Andy’s hair. “I don’t read fiction for realism. Besides, I like to think happiness isn’t completely an imaginary construct.”

“Me too,” Andy said. “I always skip to the back first to make sure it’s not too sad.”

“Cheater,” Eddie teased.

Andy didn’t bother to argue as he slipped back to sleep.

“Andy?” Eddie asked. 

“Hmm?” 

Eddie laughed. “Go back to sleep.”

“’kay,” Andy said.

**********

In the first week of October Tyler, his wife Victoria, and their daughter, Faith came back to the Jones farm for an early birthday weekend. Every single one of the Jones siblings returned for the visit, even Melissa dragging herself away from law school.

“So I’m looking for a job in North Carolina, but if all else fails do you think I could hit your dad up for an internship?” she asked between bites of her cheeseburger.

“Melissa Lauren!” Eddie yelled.

“What?” Melissa asked, completely nonchalant. “It’s a connection. I’d be an idiot not to ask.”

It took everything in Andy not to burst out laughing at the scandalized looks on both Eddie and Annabeth’s faces. He decided to focus on Melissa instead. 

“They take new interns four times a year,” he said. “It’ll mostly depend on your focus and what spots are open. I honestly don’t know much about the program, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they already have eyes on you. What do you want to specialize in?”

“I’m aiming for Global Business,” Melissa said.

Andy froze. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d assigned Ron an intern. He wasn’t a _bad_ teacher; he just had extremely exacting standards when it came to his very important work and refused to lower them for anyone or anything. It made him one of the best in the world at his job. 

“That’s not a good look,” Bill said.

“No, it’s just that one of my best friends falls into that field and he…” Andy trailed off as he tried to search for the best way to sum up Ron to people who had never met him. “He can be intense to strangers.”

“Well, I’d hope so,” Melissa said. “That’s kind of his job.”

To be a good lawyer and a presence in any court room or deal brokering? Yes. To make random people on the street piss their pants due to a single glare? Not so much. 

“You’ll be fine,” Andy said. 

Melissa was full of a strong work-ethic and with a no-bullshit attitude. She’d work well with Ron. 

“Try to sound more confident there, Andy,” Ryan said. 

Ryan, on the other hand, would’ve been drowned in the Charles before the end of his lunchbreak on his first day.

“Why do you look like you’re laughing at me inside your head?” Ryan asked.

“Because he is,” Eddie said. 

“So, mindreading is also one of your hidden talents?” Andy asked.

Eddie shrugged. “You say a lot even when you don’t speak. I guess it just takes someone who knows you well enough to read all the signs.”

Melissa rolled her eyes, Ryan actually gagged, and Bill and Annabeth just shared a sweet smile.

“So married,” Casey muttered as she drowned her fries in a sea of honey mustard. 

Out in one of the open fields where the farm crew was getting ready for its tourist season; marking out the paths for hay rides and the petting zoo, Andy could hear the faint sound of singing and instrument tuning. Everyone around the table winced at the sudden sound of static feedback, but once it was clear, Sam’s voice came through with the opening lines of _Daddy Lessons_. 

“Stage is up,” Bill said, stating the obvious. 

It only took ten minutes for most of the table to clear. Soon it was only Andy, Gris, and Jacob Jones, cradling his son Tristan in his arms. They shared a companionable silence as the air filled with more and more of the family’s voices. 

“He was heartbroken, you know,” Jacob said.

Andy frowned. “Pardon?”

“Eddie, when he came back from Boston in February,” Jacob said. “I kind of hated you a little bit. Here Eddie was, finally comfortable enough in his own skin to come back home, to _want_ to make a go at a permanent, stable life, and then Boston happened.”

Jacob switched Tristan to his other arm. “I know I haven’t said anything, even with all the time you two have come down to Baltimore. And Eddie would absolutely beat my ass if he knew I was speaking of it now.”

“I didn’t even know he was there,” Andy said. “If I had…”

“It wouldn’t have been right,” Jacob said. He looked up and met Andy’s gaze, his piercing blue eyes making him look far older than his thirty years. “I don’t blame you for it, even if I did hate you for a bit. And that was only because Eddie kind of hated himself for waiting too long. He wasn’t ready though.” 

“And he is now?”

Jacob nodded. “I was there when Dad called to explain that Eddie had read everything wrong. I ain’t never seen a person look so relieved in their lives. Even if he did fall for a jackass who can’t figure out he’s being wooed until he gets kissed in a Walmart parking lot.”

Andy buried his face in his hands. “I’m never going to live that down.”

“A story to tell the grandkids,” Jacob said. 

He passed Tristan over to Andy and then stretched out his arms. 

“I know you two aren’t talking about what you should,” Jacob said. “But you two are better together than any of us ever dreamed, and trust me, Mama’s been planning your wedding since your first summer down here. I don’t know if I ever took much stock in the idea of soul mates, but I do think some people just fit perfectly with others. And you two? You fit.”

“Thanks, Jacob,” Andy said. “That means a lot.”

He didn’t see the slap to the back of his head coming, but Jacob always was a sneaky shit.

“Sort your shit out,” he ordered. 

The music had moved into a Best of Shania Twain mix, Casey’s laughter echoing through the fields and amplified by the microphones. 

“Now let’s go watch the show,” Jacob said. He pulled a set of baby headphones out of the diaper bag. “We really are the Hillbilly Partridge Family.”

“Hey, it’s better than some of the alternatives,” Andy said. 

“Yeah?” Jacob asked. “What does your family do for fun?”

Andy smiled at his recalled all the politely vicious political debates and mocking of various social climbing society moves and CEO hirings.

“They’re more about gossip and intrigue,” Andy said. “It’s still pretty damn entertaining,” he admitted.  
“And Scrabble. Longstanding friendships have almost been ruined over a Triple Word Score.”

Jacob laughed, a sound loud enough to startle Gris, but Tristan slept on, secure in his father’s arms and noise-canceling headphones.

**********

Eddie was quiet as he drove them past the Jones farm and into the woods. These mystery dates had become their own little tradition over the past few months and Andy looked forward to them each time. It was nice, to let someone else make the decisions for a little while, to take some of the weight Andy never minded bearing but always felt on his shoulders.

“We’re going deeper into the woods,” Andy said. 

“Noticed that, did ya?” Eddie asked. 

They were in Eddie’s truck this time, the same one he had since he was sixteen, a relic even back then. It still worked though, even if Eddie still had a cassette deck inside it and manual windows and locks. The air conditioning rattled ominously and anything resembling shocks had died a natural death long ago. Still, it was a truck full of memories for the both of them, and Andy couldn’t help but feel the vehicle choice had been deliberate. 

Eddie turned down a dirt road that led to an empty plot of land. There were at least two acres, too small a plot for any viable commercial farm, but still wide open and beautiful. Eddie parked, the gear shaft screeching as he pulled it in place. 

“Your next restoration project should definitely be this truck,” Andy said.

Eddie smiled at him. “Maybe. I have a couple other things to handle first.” He slid out of his seat and opened the back suicide door, pulling out a blanket and a cooler. “

What are you waiting for?” he asked Andy, brow raised and gesturing to his seatbelt.

Andy jumped out of his side, closing the door behind him while Eddie pulled down the tailgate and hopped into the truck bed. He laid the blanket out and then turned to help Andy up. 

“We’re getting too old for this,” Andy said as he felt a twinge in his back.

“Speak for yourself,” Eddie said. “I’m as spry as I ever was.”

“Right,” Andy said as he tugged down the collar of Eddie’s shirt. “There aren’t any grey hairs on your chest at all.”

“Yeah, but you think they’re hot, so still works out for me,” Eddie said. He tugged on Andy’s arm and they both laughed as they collapsed into a sprawl on the blanket. 

“There goes the air in your tires,” Andy said. 

“There goes my spleen,” Eddie said. He kissed Andy’s forehead. “Worth it, though.” 

“You going to tell me why we’re out here?” Andy asked, even though he was too comfortable right now to really care. 

“Shh,” Eddie said. “Let’s just enjoy some peace and quiet for a little bit.”

Andy wasn’t going to argue with that, not when Eddie smelled so good and was warm pressed up against him. 

“I heard you that night, talking to your mom,” Eddie said. He must’ve felt Andy tense up under him because he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Relax. I’m glad I did. There’s a lot you don’t say, Andrew Haldane, and even more you won’t say because you don’t want to hurt anyone. So you just let yourself take it all on until it makes you ill.” He tugged Andy’s chin up so their eyes could meet. “No more of that shit, not with me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Andy said. 

“Good,” Eddie said, he settled back down, letting Andy rest his head on his shoulder. “I’m not opposed to raising our kids in the city, even I can recognize the benefit of all your family’s connections there. I would still want to spend summers here, if at all possible. And so that got me thinking. My parents’ house is always too full and that place is going to Hannah and Sam anyway. They’re already on the papers as the proper heirs to the farms and all its businesses. Ryan’s going to get half of Murray’s with Kelley, but you already knew that.”

He did, Mae had told him last month when she was updating her will, and wanted to make sure Andy wasn’t in any way insulted by it. He thought it was a great idea.

“I don’t know what Kelley’s plans are after her husband leaves the service, but I assume she’s going to come back here,” Eddie said. 

Andy just nodded, wanting Eddie to continue on. 

“So, I’ve had this little plot of land to my name since my grandpa passed. I never quite knew what to do with it. I always figured I’d build a house on it, but I never really felt the need to. That’s different now. So you and me, we’re going to go back to that fucking city of yours after your sabbatical is up. There are worst places to put down roots, and at least I know the food’s good. I want us to build our own place here though, a place to get away from it all. You cool with that?”

“I get a say?” Andy asked.

“Jackass,” Eddie said as he leaned down to kiss Andy.

“I mean, I guess you’ll do,” Andy said. 

“You are going to have to take me to get a proper tux to be your arm candy. I’m not digging out my dress blues for those assholes,” Eddie said. 

Andy frowned. “They’re not _all_ assholes. Some of them are really good people, really good families.”

Eddie’s face showed all the doubt in the world.

“Some of them do have their heads very far up their own asses too,” Andy admitted. “They don’t cancel out all the great ones. You’ll like Ron, but never, ever take a mysteriously wrapped anything from him. You don’t have any claim to diplomatic immunity.”

Eddie laughed and then stopped when Andy didn’t join him. “Seriously?” he asked. 

Andy sat-up and reached over to poke around the cooler. He was delighted to find some roast beef sandwiches and some macaroni salad inside. He handed Eddie his own sandwich and dug under the couple of pecan pie slices to find some cans of beer. 

“You can’t just leave it at that,” Eddie said. 

“Ron’s an international business lawyer,” Andy said. “I don’t ask questions; I just have a separate savings account for possible bail money if he needs it. He’s never actually been charged with anything.”

“Jesus,” Eddie muttered. He rested his chin on Andy’s shoulder. “What the hell are you getting me into?”

“Welcome to Boston,” Andy said. 

After the food, and a nap, it finally started to get dark. Eddie hadn’t made any noise about leaving any time soon and Andy was too comfortable to care. It was still just warm enough at night that they could stay out here for hours. Andy couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this disconnected from the outside world and he could feel the tension, stress, and worry leech out of his body as the stars came out. 

“Hey,” Eddie said, lips warm against Andy’s neck.

“Yeah?” Andy asked. 

Eddie shifted, body heavy against Andy’s own, pushing him down in a show of strength that sent a shiver down Andy’s spine. He widened his legs and let Eddie settle between them, let Eddie’s hands cradle the back of his neck, let his own hands drift down Eddie’s back, under his shirt, dipping below his waistband. 

“I’m glad you came back to Fawn Park, even if the circumstances were horrible,” Eddie said. “But don’t ever fucking think this was just some convenient summer fling to pass the time. The only reason I didn’t seek you out in Boston before was because you were with someone, or I thought you were, and I wouldn’t come between that. I’m serious about this, and us, and building a house on that plot of land over there, and a future with the both of us in it together.”

“I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen years old,” Andy said. He put one of his hands over Eddie’s mouth so he couldn’t interrupt. “It’s morphed and changed and grown over the years, but part of me has always been in love with you. So, yes, I want that house with you, and the kids we might or might not adopt, and Gris to basically have her own room, and everything.” 

He took his hand off Eddie’s mouth and pulled him down for a fierce kiss, putting everything he felt that he just couldn’t say yet into it. 

Eddie gentled it to soft, slow kisses, until he finally pulled back, rubbing his nose against Andy’s, kissing his cheeks, and his eyelids, and everywhere he could reach. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I was eighteen,” Eddie said. “And it scared the shit out of me for a long time, because I didn’t think things like that happened to people like me. I never heard about gay high school sweethearts or puppy love that went the distance. Never could get you out of mind though.”

“Good,” Andy said. He shifted his hips, bucking up into Eddie’s own. “Now will you please just make out with me already?”

Eddie’s laughter filled the night, his smile as bright as the stars overhead.

**Author's Note:**

> All of the love and thanks to ama, alexpenkala, and ruinsrebuilt for reading through this fic and helping to make it actually comprehensible. All the remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> So much of my gratitude and appreciation to charlesanthonybruno for creating the gorgeous art which accompanies this fic. And for being so patient as it took me forever and a day to write. 
> 
> All my love to Nat who had to deal with my long, rambling messages when I first came up with this fic idea. 
> 
> And finally, tons of thanks to you, reading this now, and to everyone on tumblr who read the WIP snippets and offered encouragement and enthusiasm.


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